


The Prince's Image

by magic_glow



Category: FernGully: The Last Rainforest (1992), Thumbelina (1994)
Genre: Crossover, Fairies, M/M, Romance, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_glow/pseuds/magic_glow
Summary: Zak returns to Ferngully, much to Pips's dismay. But once he shows them the storybook he brought along, Pips becomes intrigued by the strange fairy images upon the pages. When Crysta uses magic to bring the images to life, he finds himself in a foreign land, colder than anything he has ever felt, and tagging along on an enthusiastic fairy prince's quest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really got into the Non/Disney crossover vid fandom on Youtube a few years ago. Now I decided to write fic ahahaha

Life, green and roaring and vibrant, was such a fragile thing, Pips thought. Thousands of years of slow, steady growth, of a thriving universe held protectively within the embrace of bark and root and grass had been razed to the ground in an instant. Ferngully would take a long time to recover from the fire and poison of Hexxus’s carnage. 

Scorched remains still littered the hills as far as Pips could see but he spied here and there the first green sproutings of new life. Without Crysta’s vastly superior magic, the forest would not have rebuilt itself as quickly. The other fairy denizens took it in turns to fly into the most affected areas in groups where they would concentrate their energies into growing small seeds and tufts of grass. No one had Crysta’s abilities—honed for years by Magi Lune to one day become the rainforest’s saving grace—but they did what they could and were more hopeful for it.

Pips had been part of this morning’s re-growing group; they had begun work on reintroducing trees to the southeastern part of Ferngully nearest to the river. Many tree-dwelling creatures counted on the shade by the waters to rest in after slaking their thirsts, and so it had been designated a priority zone. They had left the place slightly greener than it had been this morning, and Crysta would come later to accelerate their groundwork. Pips lagged behind the others, having expended the most energy in a sudden fit of furious determination. It had been a foolish move, of course. The plants wouldn’t grow faster even if he used up all of his magic in one sitting. But Pips had never been one for patience, and exhausted though he was, it made him feel better to have tried.

As he floated above a burned stump, his toes brushed against the jagged splinters and left them cold. He would feel no life thrumming like a heartbeat from those dead roots. The constant pulsing from every stalk, every leaf, and every creak of a branch had uplifted the fairies’ spirits for ages beyond memory. Pips knew that Ferngully’s heart would beat stronger again with time. For now however, he would find solace in the unburnt edges of their home. 

He zipped into the thicker underbrush and felt relief as the blurred scenery grew greener the faster he flew. The heart of the fairy sanctuary remained untouched and, as if to counteract Hexxus’s very existence, was thriving more than ever. Every inhabitant had been so adamant in saving their home that they had perhaps gone a little overboard in Pips’s opinion. The sanctuary had not only grown greener than the rest of the rainforest, but each new day brought a fresh batch of flowers blossoming across every available surface of their tree, to the point that they had to pluck a good number out just to be able to move about freely.

When Pips arrived, the Beetle Boys had been rounded on flower-plucking duty and they called him to help the moment he came in sight.

“You know, I would…” he landed on a high branch above them, resting his elbows on his crouched legs and giving them his signature elfish grin. “But you guys are doing such a great job. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your flow!”

“Slacker!” Root shook a fist at him only to be pushed down into a pile of white petals a second later by Stump barreling into him. The boys quickly made a mess of their work as they wrestled each other, scattering the little progress they had made across the branch floor. The commotion was enough to grab the Elder’s attention, and he made short work of giving the Boys an earful.

His mischievous deed done for the day, Pips flew off with a snicker before his friends could accost him. He made his way to his favourite berry-filled tree, intent on spending the afternoon gorging. After all, he had done his job well and he deserved a little reward. Unfortunately, his sanctuary proved not so peaceful upon arrival.

Batty and his cumbersome wingspan were currently taking up most of the space right by the berries. He was sprawled limp across a branch, wheezing profusely. Pips cursed his ill-timing; he debated coming back later so he wouldn’t have to endure whatever gibberish the damn bat would spew at him. But the call of those ripe berries was too strong and Pips was weak when it came to his indulgences. He landed delicately on the very tips of the branch where its fragile stems trembled underneath his weight.

“Do you have to do that here?” he muttered.

Batty pushed his head back so that he was looking at Pips upside down. His tongue was sticking out, fluttering lightly with every long wheeze he took. Pips wrinkled his nose and drew back.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Batty rubbed frantically at his eyes, which were nearly as red as the berries. “The flowers! They’re everywhere in the sanctuary! My allergies are acting up! I haven’t felt this itchy since my uncle Marvin threw me into a termite mound to try and help me build character!” He coughed violently. “Oh, won’t somebody save me from this endless torture! Yikes!”

In his theatrical lament, he had swooned right off the tree but managed to grab onto the branch by his hind claws, swinging upside down in a flurry of rasps.

“Riiiiight,” Pips said. Weirdo. 

At the very least, the path to his beloved berries was once again free. He flew over to the nearest cluster and tugged at the biggest one he could find, his mouth already open wide for that first sweet bite.

“I have half a mind to sneak into that human camp and rummage through their things for antihistamines,” Batty moaned and Pips abruptly shut his jaw with a sharp clatter of teeth. “I don’t know if they work on bats, but I’m sure I swallowed worse things in the lab—”

“Where!?” Pips snapped, suddenly right in his face. Batty nearly lost grip on the branch and wheezed out his shock. He clutched at his chest and gave his most dramatic glower. "Geez, are you trying to scare away what sanity I’ve got left?”

“Where are the humans? In the forest?”

“Crysta didn’t tell you? She’s observing them right now at the top of this tree. I’m supposed to keep watch in case anything happens.”

Pips flew up without another word. The wind whipped past his ears in the same blood rush that now thrummed in his veins, shooting fear into every nerve ending in his body. He hoped that Batty was just mumbling nonsense like he always did, but as he broke through the thick layer of leaves that sheltered the berry tree, he saw Crysta. She was floating above the canopy, nearly still save for the incessant fluttering of her wings.

Pips halted next to her, but she made no acknowledgement of his presence, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. Only when he gently touched the small of her back did she finally turn to him.

“Is it true?” he asked, “Are there more humans in the forest?”

She hesitated a moment before giving him a slow nod. “Look over there.” 

She pointed to their right, to a place where much of the trees had been felled. There was a clearing of muddy ground, peppered here and there with patchy mounds of dried yellow grass. Pips hadn’t explored that part of the rainforest since its destruction, and was struck by the small moving figures that entered the clearing. They stood among the carnage, their bright clothes shining starkly against the charred, drab background.

Pips’s fear grew, thrumming like a violent swarm in the pit of his stomach. “Why are they back? Is Zag here again? Is he with them?”

Crysta smacked his chest. “It’s Zak. And I don’t know. I haven’t gotten close enough to find out.”

Pips grabbed her arm. “You’re not thinking of going there, are you?”

“I have to.”

“Are you crazy?” he shouted. Crysta frowned at his tone, but Pips had ignored her reproachful looks all his life and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. Not for a threat this serious. “Haven’t they caused enough trouble? We’ve barely gotten the worst of the rainforest to grow again!”

“That’s why I need to go over there, Pips. Maybe they’re good humans like Zak, maybe they aren’t. But we need to find out what they’re doing here.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging considerably. “Magi left me with the responsibility to watch over the rainforest. If we find out what the humans are doing back here, we can be better prepared.”

Pips watched as she slid her fingers down her arms in a slow drag, blunt nails leaving pale white streaks across her skin. It occurred to him then just how draining this had all been for Crysta. She was still so young. Much too young really, to carry the heavy burden that Magi had shouldered for so many years. She didn’t have the same luxuries for idleness that he often thrived in. Burrowing themselves in Ferngully wouldn’t guarantee their safety and if he tried to do just that, he knew she would worry herself into a frenzy before flying off to do something foolish.

“Fine,” he said, “But I’m coming with you. Leave the bat behind though; he’s about as subtle as a rampaging hog.”

Crysta beamed and grabbed his hand, pulling him with surprising strength. Pips let her drag him even as he wondered whether he had just made a mistake, but her enthusiasm wasn’t something to fight against, as he had learned long ago.

They quietly landed on a tree just above the humans and huddled together under the shade. Now that they were up close, the little group’s voices rang loudly across the clearing; or rather, the smallest of them was causing a good amount of fuss while the others tried to shush her. A human child, Pips guessed. She was being placated by her parents, while the other standing a few steps away was—

“Zak!” Crysta whispered in excitement, “It’s him! He’s back!”

“Great,” Pips said flatly. 

Zak was peering up at the sky, one hand flung over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He was wearing the same bright blue clothes as before, and stuck out sorely against the earthy clearing. Complete bait for any wandering predator had he been shrunk to fairy size again, Pips thought. Humans really had no sense of self-preservation.

The others said something to him and he nodded once before they disappeared into the trees. He remained in the clearing, his head darting this way and that, searching for something.

Pips stood up and dusted off his petal skirt. “Well, now that we know it’s him, we’ve got nothing to worry about. So why don’t we just—Hey!”

Crysta had shot out of their hiding spot before he had even finished and made a beeline for Zak, doing the exact thing he'd dreaded she would.

“Zak!” she circled around the human’s head, calling out to him with a joy Pips hadn’t heard from her in a long time. 

Zak’s eyes went cross-eyed from trying to keep up with the little red blur. He quickly shook his head and refocused his vision and once they were face to face, he beamed.

“Crysta! I’ve been looking for you. Well… actually, I was hoping you’d find me.” He cupped his hands and held them out for her to land on. His smile was bright and much, much too big for Pips’ liking. His teeth were blindingly white, almost the size of his favourite berries. He floated close, arms crossed in his signature standoffish pose as Zak turned that unsettlingly large smile on him. “Good to see you too, shrimp.”

“Right back at ya, you hairy mountain,” Pips replied. He landed on the very tip of Zak’s right index finger and bounced on it a few times.

“What are you doing back here?” Crysta’s smile faded as she glanced at the direction the other humans had gone. “Is everything alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Yeah, those were my parents and my little sister. I brought them here to show them what’s happened.” Zak also dropped his smile, the corners of his mouth tightening. “People need to see the destruction that... well, that I helped cause. If they can see it with their own eyes, it might help them better understand why things need to change.”

“I’m so happy to hear that!” Crysta exclaimed. She leaned forward in his hands, gazing up at his large face with an almost painful earnestness. “How long will you be here for?”

Zak hesitated a moment before replying: “Just for the afternoon. My dad’s taking some photos of the rainforest for documentation.”

“Oh…” Crysta’s wings drooped behind her. “Of course.”

They lapsed into a sad silence, leaving Pips to fume from his precarious perch. He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry; Crysta understood that Zak’s place was with his own, that his time among them had been fleeting no matter how enchanting it had been for the both of them. Perhaps he sympathized with her pain of having feelings that would never grow into something more. He still ached sometimes whenever they were alone together, his heart clinging onto vain hope. But Crysta had always known what she wanted, and much as she loved Pips, it was not the kind of love that would blossom into a mating. He’d accepted it now, just as he'd believed she had accepted Zak’s departure as well. But his return had re-opened that wound, and perhaps that was what irritated him so. He hated seeing her hurt, the sort that couldn’t be soothed by ointment or words. 

Pips cleared his throat, determined to break the awkward silence. “Well, we’ve been hard at work regrowing the forest. It’s taking less time than it would normally thanks to Crysta’s magic. As long as you haven’t brought another of those giant tree devourers with you…” His eyes narrowed. “Or did you?”

“Wh—Dude, no!” Zak emphatically shook his head, “I don’t even have a license to drive one of those things. And I spoke to my bosses about—hey!”

Pips had left his hand and zipped behind him, satisfied with Zak’s simple “no”. He didn’t need to understand the human specifics beyond that. There was, however, something else that piqued his interest.

“What’s this?” he poked at the giant purple thing on Zak’s back. “What’re you hiding in there?”

“Pips, don’t pry!” Crysta chided him.

“Nah, it’s cool. It’s my sister’s backpack.” Zak slid it off his shoulders and dropped it on the ground. “She got tired of carrying it around and made me take it.”

Pips ran his hand over the bright images of happy winged animals that dotted the backpack’s surface. “Hm. Doesn’t look any sturdier than the bags we make.”

“But it’s much bigger!” Crysta exclaimed, flying over to him so she could also examine it. “Look, it’s got more pouches than a kangaroo!” She tapped on one of them, her big eyes shining with ever-present curiosity.

“Sure, it looks big to you. But this is a kid’s backpack. It’s been cutting into my shoulders for the last hour. Man, what does she keep in there?” Zak rummaged inside of it and pulled out what looked like a flat square stone. 

“What’s this?” Crysta landed on it once it had been set on the ground, leaning forward. She gasped and looked up at Zak. “It has a fairy on it!”

Pips peered at the thing over her shoulder. There was indeed a very detailed image of a fairy dressed in bright colours. It was like someone had taken a real fairy and squashed him until he had flattened against the stone. He was holding hands with a wingless girl.

“It’s a book,” Zak explained, “A storybook. This one’s… well, it’s a fairytale. It tells a story.”

“How can a story be a thing?” Pips sneered, “A story isn’t something you can touch, it’s something you tell to others.”

“It’s… look.” Zak peeled open a layer of the so-called book; Pips and Crysta shot up in surprise as he revealed the insides of the storything. “See? It’s got words and pictures to tell the story.”

The two fairies cautiously landed back on the book, this time standing among flat white hills covered in dark marks and more strange images. Pips traced a round black loop with his toe, face scrunched up in confusion while Crysta pressed her palm into a symbol that looked like a long branch.

“What are these markings?” she asked.

“They’re letters,” Zak replied, “You know, to make words?” He was met with blank stares. “You guys don’t know how to read? Crap. Um, how do I explain this?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, wrinkling his nose in thought. “Well, humans sort of made these symbols up so they could, y’know. Communicate without having to talk.”

“Why?” Pips asked.

Zak bristled. “I dunno, man! We just did! Look, these letters form words that we read. And they help to tell a story.”

Crysta’s wings perked up. “Like how we can read a tree’s rings to find out their life story!”

“Yeah, sorta like that.”

Pips pointed at the image on the right where the wingless girl sat bathed in moonlight as the fairy flew above her. “So what’s this story about? I’m dying to know how many things about us you humans got wrong.” He spoke the last part in a snicker.

“I don’t remember, I haven’t read this since I was little.” Zak flipped through the white leaves until he was at the very first one. “It’s called Thumbelina.”

“Will you tell it to us?” Crysta implored.

Zak pinched his lips, glancing back at the direction his parents had left. “Um. Sure, I guess. It’s pretty short.” He ran his finger underneath the first line of words and recited them: “Once upon a time, there was a lonely woman—”

“Why aren’t the people moving?” Pips interrupted and Zak dropped his finger with a loud sigh.

“Dude. They’re just pictures. They’re not real.”

Pips puffed out the air from his cheeks. “Well that’s no fun.”

“Alright then, genius. Why don’t you use your magic to make them move?”

“Our magic only works on living things,” Crysta chimed in, “Like trees and fairies and humans.”

“Well, technically paper comes from trees,” Zak said, pinching one of the thin white sheets, “Maybe they’re still alive.”

Pips and Crysta looked at each other before glancing down at the book. What strange sort of tree could possibly produce such a thing?

“I don’t think we should be using magic unless it’s important…” Crysta said uncertainly.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Pips told her, “It’d make the pictures more interesting.”

Crysta looked up at Zak, who shrugged in response. It was a juvenile request to be sure, and she couldn’t have been surprised that Pips made it. Really, he had just wanted to take a jab at another of Zak’s human oddities, but from the way Crysta chewed the inside of her lip, she was clearly considering it. Even though she had taken on the mantle of Magi’s legacy, caution could still be thrown to the wind if her curiosity was great enough.

She placed her arms out, palms facing the pictures and took a moment to think up the words. “Images still as the water’s surface,” she slowly recited, “Come to life and act out your purpose!”

Her hands glowed a bright blue, flashing a direct current to the page until the entire book trembled. Pips’s legs wobbled and he flung out his hands to steady himself, slapping them right against the image of the fairy. He watched the picture's neck slowly crane from right to left. One by one, each part of him detached from its original spot and began to sway.

“It’s working!” Pips exclaimed. His hand never left the page’s surface and swiftly followed the fairy’s hand to where it stretched out. Suddenly, he felt it grip onto him with unimaginable strength and before he could utter a sound, he was being pulled face first into the page. He squeezed his eyes shut before the impact, but none came save for a freezing blast that whipped across his face, chilling every inch of his skin and trickling down his spine. The last thing he heard was the distant echo of Crysta’s yell before he faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how to write Robin Williams's voice but thankfully Batty's basically just got a cameo in this fic lol


	2. Chapter 2

“Kidnapped, Mother! She’s been kidnapped!” Cornelius shouted not for the first time that day.

“You’re joking!” Tabitha muttered behind her fan. She hadn’t taken any of his claims seriously and he’d been at it for a good half hour now. Granted, Cornelius had never been the most eloquent (he could hear his teachers sighing in the distant memories of his childhood lessons) and he had tripped over the bulk of his explanation in his haste.

But his mother’s continued confusion was beginning to frustrate him. There was no sense in arguing further, not when his beloved was in danger somewhere in the wide world. His parents were looking at him like he had fallen off his bumblebee and hit his head one too many times. 

“Look Father, please delay the winter frost for as long as you can. I need time to find Thumbelina!”

“Cornelius, what you’re asking is impossible!” Colbert protested. 

He was cut off by his wife’s fan waving wildly in front of his face as she added: “What clues could you possibly find to track a girl you’ve only known for a few hours?”

Cornelius paid no heed to their objections and jammed his helmet back on to drown them out. There was no point in staying here now that he’d made it clear that he was going to rescue her regardless of their thoughts. He mounted his loyal bumblebee, giving his parents one final vow that he’d find her before taking off. 

As the wind whipped by them, Cornelius ruminated on the only lead he’d been given: Thumbelina’s dog had told him she’d been kidnapped by a frog. His first instinct was to scour nearby water sources but the river was teeming with all kinds of life and all kinds of frogs, not many of whom would be friendly to a fairy prince encroaching on their domain. Cornelius hadn’t retained all of the details from his lessons on fairy relations with other creatures, but he distinctly remembered frogs as being rather aggressive.

The river stretched for many miles and he couldn’t afford to make the mistake of starting his search at the wrong end. His best option was to go back to Thumbelina’s house and look for clues there.

It took a firm squeeze around Buzzby’s middle to spur him faster, and they made it to the windowsill in record time. Cornelius had his helmet off and clattering carelessly on the ground in a matter of seconds, heedless of keeping a low profile.

The cottage was empty; far away, he could hear Hero barking in the fields. The search for clues would be uninterrupted. Cornelius left Buzzby to rest and flew deeper into the room, landing right on top of the fairy book Thumbelina had been admiring when they had first met. He allowed himself one brief glance at the inky image of the fairy prince holding his queen’s hand before turning away, his heart clenching painfully.

The bulk of the mess in the room was Hero’s doing in his effort to catch the kidnapping frogs. If he could perhaps find a small handprint, a remnant of watery grass or weed that could tell him which part of the river they had come from, that would give him a lead. He scanned the table’s grainy wood, looking for even a smidge of something unusual.

That was when he heard a groan. Startled, he whirled around, fumbling for his sword handle. Something red emerged from behind the book’s spine, slowly rising until a face appeared, framed by long fiery hair. The intruder steadied himself on the book with one hand, rubbing the back of his head with the other. He shivered and his wings fluttered briefly behind him. Another fairy, Cornelius thought in surprise. One he had never seen at court.

The stranger blinked once, twice, finally getting his large green eyes to open properly. He looked behind him with a frown, fingers dropping to rub the back of his neck.

“What is this?” he muttered, “Must’ve hit the ground harder than I thought. I should’ve known better than to trust Zag’s—whoah!”

He had turned back around only to be met with Cornelius’s sword at his throat. The fairy raised his hands up, completely shaken out of his stupor.

“Where is she?” Cornelius demanded.

“Who?”

“Who are you?”

“I—”

“What are you doing here?”

“Will you slow down?” snapped the stranger, “I have no idea how I got here or where I am or who you—” he paused. Narrowed his eyes, leaned his head forward ever so slightly. “Wait a minute. You’re the fairy. The one whose picture moved in the book!”

Cornelius’s grip faltered. “Excuse me?”

“So this means…” The stranger looked left and right, taking in his surroundings with dawning comprehension. “This place is the story. Crysta’s magic sucked me into the story! Aw cripes, this isn’t what I wanted at all!”

To Cornelius’s utter bafflement, he tilted his head back and began to shout at the ceiling: “HEY! GET ME OUT OF HERE! CRYSTA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Be quiet!” Cornelius shook his weapon in warning, flush with a new wave of anger. “Tell me who you are.”

The stranger dropped his hands with a long sigh. “It’s a bit too complicated for me to—Alright! Alright!” he hurriedly amended as Cornelius pressed the very tip of his rapier to his neck. “My name’s Pips. I’m from… well, I’m not too sure how far but pretty far away.”

“Why are you here in this house?”

“I uh, don’t know that either.” Pips rubbed the back of his head with a wince. “I got knocked out and woke up here.”

Cornelius narrowed his eyes; the intruder looked genuinely disoriented, but he wasn’t quite ready to let his guard down lest it be a ruse.

“Where are your clothes?” he asked, gesturing to Pips’s wide display of skin save for a short skirt of petals cinched around his waist.

Pips looked down at his body in bemusement. “These _are_ my clothes.”

“You mean you fly around practically naked all the time?” What his mother would say if she could see this.

“Hey, it’s hot where I come from! We don’t need any fancy silks or whatever it is you’re wrapped up in!” Pips said, affronted.

Cornelius stepped away and sheathed his rapier. He’d decided that this strange fairy was no real threat apart from being irritating to listen to. One surprise encounter wouldn’t detract him from his real quest.

“I don’t have time for this. I came here to look for clues, so why don’t you just fly back to wherever you came from?”

“I would if I knew where to go, but I think I’m stuck here until help somehow arrives.” Pips glared at some invisible presence on the ceiling.

Cornelius was no longer paying attention to him and had lowered himself on hands and knees to peer closer at the scratch marks left on the table. They didn’t run very deep, no doubt inflicted in a rapid-fire swipe. Hero had done his best to nab the kidnapper frogs with little success. Perhaps if he could follow the trail of claw marks, they would lead him to something more substantial.

“What kind of clues are you looking for?” Pips asked behind him.

He stood up and patted the dust off his knees. “Anything that could tell me where to find my beloved,” he replied.

“She get kidnapped or something?”

“Yes, by a frog,” Cornelius said darkly, “I’ve got to find her before the season changes and flying through the winds becomes impossible.”

He flew back to the windowsill and knelt down, running his fingers along the deep grooves of the woodgrain. There had to be something…

“You’re really into bark reading, huh?”

Cornelius threw his head back with a frustrated sigh. “I’m looking for clues,” he repeated through gritted teeth, “Maybe you should do the same to find out how to get back to your home.”

“I would if I knew what to look for—” Pips began, but Cornelius spied something on the ground behind them and swiftly moved him aside to get a better look.

There was a dark green patch glinting in the sunlight, tucked away in the corner so that it would have been easily missed at first glance. But now Cornelius knelt before it and ran a cautious finger along its slippery surface.

He carefully examined the substance, rubbing his thumb and index fingers together as recognition dawned upon him. “This is pond slime,” he murmured, “There’s a pond north of here by the human-made bridge. That must be where they’ve taken her!”

He stood up straight, every nerve ending in his body tingling with newfound energy. He made to sprint back to Buzzby but was pulled back by a hand gripping his elbow. 

“Wait.”

Cornelius turned around to see Pips chewing on his lower lip. It was a credit to his many years of tedious courtly etiquette lessons that he managed to stay in place instead of shaking him off and disappearing at breakneck speed, but his patience was paper-thin.

“Let me help you,” Pips said.

He pulled his arm away with a frown. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Because—Alright look, I don’t know the specifics of how I ended up here, but I do know that magic was involved.” Pips scowled at the ceiling once again and Cornelius followed suit, wondering what on earth he was looking for up there. “And I think that to reverse the magic, I should probably help you on your quest. You know, so you can get to your happily ever after.”

Cornelius narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would helping me help you?”

“Look, it’s a little too complicated to explain but come on, are you really gonna turn down another pair of eyes?” 

Having a helping hand could potentially make his quest a little easier, but Cornelius was skeptical as to Pips’s usefulness. He stared at the other fairy for a long stretch of silence, taking in his strange pointed ears and his lack of clothes and his frankly odd way of expressing himself.

“Alright,” he finally said and was bemused by Pips’s large answering grin, “But we have to leave now. Thumbelina might still be at the pond if we’re lucky.”

Buzzby was still waiting for him right next to the open window pane, although he was hopping anxiously on his six little legs, eager to get going. Pips nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight of him.

“Criminy, what is that!?”

“My bumble,” Cornelius replied, jamming his helmet on and sliding his visor shut, “He can fly faster than any fairy.”

He took off without waiting to see if Pips could catch up and zoomed away. He steered his mount with gentle tugs on his antennae, making sure to set their course south of the little stream that ran near the house. The pond was a ways away, but Cornelius knew to simply follow the outcroppings of reeds until they grew more frequent.

“You know, that was pretty rude leaving me back there,” came a grumpy voice that startled Cornelius so much that he nearly fell off Buzzby’s back.

“How did you catch up so fast?” he yelled, voice muffled inside his helmet.

“I flew,” Pips replied matter-of-factly.

He was shooting off like a star, keeping neck-and-neck with Buzzby’s incredible speed, his wings a near-invisible blur. But what really caught Cornelius’s eye was the bright green glow that enveloped his legs. He had never seen such a thing before.

“How are you doing that?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“What, flying? You have wings, don’t you? Even if you’re not using them right now.”

“No, I mean that—” he nodded in his direction, “That glow.”

Pips frowned. “It’s my magic. Why are _you_ wearing that thing on your head?”

“For protection when I’m flying!”

“Ha! Sure, that’s gonna keep your pretty boy face unhar—WATCH OUT!”

Cornelius quickly turned to face the front and pulled Buzzby down a split second before they almost collided into a thick branch. They spun around in the air, taking a few seconds to return to proper flying height.

“You’re welcome!” Pips called to him.

Cornelius muttered a barely audible thanks, grateful that his helmet hid his reddening cheeks. He couldn’t believe he had almost crashed like a rookie rider. Buzzby was still fretting and he busied himself with giving comforting pats on his fuzzy back.

“So what do frogs want with your girlfriend Thimbleweed anyway?” Pips asked.

“Her name is Thumbelina,” Cornelius corrected, “And I don’t know. We’ll find out when we get there.”

“Right, Thumbelina. What a weird name.”

“It’s a lovely name!” he said defensively.

Their bickering continued until they had arrived at the pond. The water was hidden by a ring of tall reeds swaying in the wind. Cornelius circled from above, trying to spot either Thumbelina or a frog. The thin opening of his helmet visor made it very difficult to see at great distances, so he opted to land on a rock and continue his search from there.

Pips landed next to him and turned around on his heel, hands on his hips. “Hm. This isn’t too different from water spots back home. Less lizards maybe.”

Cornelius had tucked his helmet under his arm and used his other hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he peered around. The water was still; the slimy moss floating across its surface lay undisturbed. He called for Thumbelina, his voice echoing across the pond. The only response was the chirping of grasshoppers and the quiet flow of the stronger current further away.

“They’re gone,” he said in despair, “We’re too late!”

“Maybe someone saw where they went,” Pips suggested, “We could ask around.”

It was a good idea, save for the fact that the pond appeared deserted. Cornelius fluttered from rock to rock, looking for any sign of life.

“Hello?” he called out, “Is there anyone here?”

“Yoohoo! Up here, handsome!”

Cornelius halted on the muddy pond bank and looked up; one by one, a line of birds glided down from a nearby tree in perfectly synchronized formation. They huddled together and giggled at him, smoothing down their skirts and primping their hair.

One of the birds, a blond sparrow with a pinned rose on her dress, stepped forward and gave a graceful curtsy. “How do you do, your highness?” she said, “My name is Mimi and these are my can-can girls.”

Before Cornelius could react, the others followed suit until he was surrounded by a semicircle of bowing frilly birds.

“Now that’s not something you see every day,” Pips said, coming to stand next to him.

The birds caught sight of him and burst into squeals, their previous composure completely forgotten. Cornelius and Pips glanced at each other wide-eyed as the girls giggled into their wings.

“Oh my word, he’s naked!”

“I’ve never seen that before!”

“Where are your clothes?”

“What—I’m wearing clothes!” Pips protested, gesturing at his petal skirt.

The birds fell into more peals of disbelieving laughter, twittering louder and louder until Mimi promptly shushed them.

“Girls! Really, let’s not go to pieces!” she said sternly, but she couldn’t keep her cheeks from going red when she faced Pips. “Although… that is rather, um. Revealing.”

Pips opened his mouth, ready to defend his fashion choices (or lack thereof), until Cornelius gently pushed him back so they could get to the matter at hand.

“I’m looking for a girl named Thumbelina,” he said, “She was kidnapped by a frog and taken here. Have you seen her?”

“She was here this morning!” one of the birds piped up and Cornelius’s heart lifted with hope.

“She was? Where is she now?”

Mimi pointed behind them past the pond. “She went through the grass over there with the jitterbug children. The frogs left her on a lilypad but they’ll most likely return soon. One of them said he wanted to marry her.”

“Marry her?” Cornelius repeated in horror, “Oh no! I need to find her right away!”

“She said she was going home,” Mimi added.

“What?” He looked back in the direction she had shown them. “But her house is the other way!”

“Great, and here I was hoping this story would be short,” Pips groused.

Cornelius slid his helmet back on, fueled by a fresh wave of fear. “We have to go now. She can’t have gone far! Thank you for your help,” he said to the birds.

They curtsied in unison before flying back into the trees. Pips shook his head at them before following Cornelius who had already climbed on Buzzby’s back.

“Come on!” he urged before kicking off into the sky. Pips grumbled behind him but nevertheless kept pace. That was, until a leaf fell on top of him and he nearly tumbled to the ground. Cornelius pulled back and waited until he had extricated himself from the surprise drop with a splutter.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Pips threw the orange leaf away and glanced up at the tree it had fallen from. “Yeah, that’s not the first time it’s happened to me, although—Huh. Half the leaves on that tree are yellow.”

“It’s just autumn. Come on!” Cornelius kicked back into gear, keeping his eyes on the ground below for a flash of bright blue and blonde in the grass.

Pips quickly caught up to him, his legs flashing that brilliant green at the corner of Cornelius’s visor. “What’s autumn?” he asked.

“What do you mean? We’re in the season of autumn. I asked my father to delay the winter frost for as long as he could but he likely won’t be able to keep it away for more than a few weeks. This year’s winter is arriving sooner than usual and he can’t control it as easily.”

“What’s winter?”

Cornelius turned to him in irritation. “Are you mocking me?”

But Pips was looking at him with wide eyes, the picture of earnest curiosity. The changing of the seasons had always been a part of Cornelius’s life, of the magic that flowed within him that he didn’t think he really knew how to explain it. The seasons just _were_ , as they had always been.

“Where do you come from that there are no seasons?” he asked, “Don’t the leaves change and fall and the icy winds bring snow over there?”

Pips shook his head. “No, everything stays green. Well, except for…” his face fell as he lost himself in an unpleasant memory. “Shoot, it doesn’t matter.”

“What is it?” Cornelius asked, his interest now piqued. 

He was met with a thin smile. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

This was not where he thought his day would have gone when he’d woken up this morning full of boundless joy. Cornelius didn’t know how he’d ended up with such a strange companion, nor why he had offered to help when he had no reason to. Once he and Thumbelina were reunited, they would have to compare which of them had had the more bizarre day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I extended the amount of time between the season changes from the movie so Pips and Cornelius will have to spend more time together, cos going from fall to winter in like 48 hours is ridiculous even for a 90s animated film


	3. Chapter 3

They had been flying for what felt like hours. Pips’s back muscles strained to keep his wings beating even as his magic green glow was beginning to flicker. He was having trouble keeping up with Cornelius’s bumblebee; the giant fuzzball showed no signs of slowing down whereas Pips was ready to hurtle straight to the ground and end his suffering.

“D’you think we could take a rest?” he asked and was disgruntled at how breathless he sounded.

Cornelius turned to look at him—presumably. He was still wearing that strange thing on his head (a helmet, he called it—a ridiculous human story invention in Pips’s opinion).

“We can’t stop now, we’ve barely made any headway! I have to find Thumbelina before the frogs do!” His face may have been hidden from view, but there was no disguising the complete affront in his tone.

“Alright then, least you could do is let me catch a ride for a bit!” Pips leaped onto the bee’s back, jostling it from its high position for a few frantic seconds.

“Hey! What are you—” Cornelius tugged hard on his antennae, halting Buzzby’s sudden plummet. They rocketed back into prime flying height, now accompanied by a series of angry buzzes.

“Are you crazy? We almost fell out of the sky!” Cornelius’s stern voice was muffled by his silly headgear, which rather dampened the seriousness of the situation.

“I needed a break! Besides, this guy here is big enough for two!” Pips slid his arms around Cornelius’s waist before he was thrown off by the wind and felt him tense at the sudden contact. Cornelius leaned forward slightly, letting the heady breeze blow between them so they were touching less.

“This is pretty nice,” Pips commented, “You know, I’ve got friends back home who ride beetles together. I’m starting to see the appeal of not flying on your own all the time.”

“What? How can you ride a beetle? They’re long and lanky and… and really rude!” 

“Are you sure you’re describing beetles? Back home, they’re short and round and just buzz.”

“And does everyone in your home wear as little as you do?” Cornelius wryly asked.

Pips tightened his grip in annoyance and delighted at the sharp gasp this elicited. “You really need to get over my clothes. Maybe you could learn to let loose, starting with that weird hat you insist on wearing whenever you’re riding—”

He stopped as his eye caught a glimpse of something blue fluttering underneath Cornelius’s collar. He reached in and pulled it out, ignoring the surprised shiver that ran up the other fairy’s nape.

“A necklace of flowers,” he said in surprise, “Maybe you’ve got good taste after all.”

“Forget-me-nots,” Cornelius replied so softly Pips almost missed it, “Thumbelina gave it to me when we met. It’s a promise that I will never forget her.”

He sounded so earnest that Pips didn’t have the heart to tease him over it. This was a story he was intruding on, after all. One where the prince was already in love, where good triumphed over evil and happily-ever-afters reigned. Pips didn’t know a thing about human stories, but the old fairy romances told to him by his elders were full of such ideals. He could only hope that the same held true for this tale, and that they would be able to reach a happy ending. It was his only way out of here.

Cornelius elbowed him out of his musings and he nearly toppled off his perch. “Down there, look!” he cried.

Buzzby was led around in a slow circle, allowing Pips to look right below the invisible target they were creating; a large frog was hopping from lily pad to lily pad, causing such a ruckus that the nearby fish and insects fled in terror.

“Looks like he’s searching for something,” Pips commented as the frog pushed apart a clump of reeds to peer between them.

“Or someone,” Cornelius added tersely, “Let’s go, Buzz!”

He pushed his mount into a nosedive so suddenly that Pips practically slammed into his back. They hurtled at lightning speed towards the pond, and Pips was so certain of their impending immersion that he sucked in a deep breath. But at the last minute, the bumblebee swerved upward and merely skimmed the water’s surface with its legs, landing on a rock with a satisfied buzz.

Cornelius pried off the arms firmly attached to his middle and leaped off in one quick bound. Pips was a lot less graceful in his dismount and had to throw a hand to the ground as he slid bonelessly.

“Warn me before you do that next time,” he said, voice as wobbly as his legs.

Cornelius pulled off his helmet and quickly tucked it into one of the packs tied to Buzzby’s saddle before pulling a still recovering Pips to a sunnier patch of rock. 

The frog had his back turned to them, unaware of their presence. He was practically tearing reeds out from their watery roots and muttering under his breath. Cornelius looked at Pips and pressed a finger to his lips, then ever so slowly pulled his sword from its sheath. He made sure to point it at the frog’s back before speaking.

“I demand to know what you’re doing here!” He deliberately pitched his voice lower to sound more intimidating, and Pips had to stuff a fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

The frog turned around in surprise; he was a grotesque creature dressed as strangely as everyone else in this place, and looked nothing like the frogs Pips was familiar with. For one thing, he was standing on two legs, and was considerably taller than either of them.

“Who are you?” he croaked. 

“I am Prince Cornelius of the Vale of the Fairies.”

The frog narrowed his eyes, unimpressed at his title. He slapped Cornelius’s hand away, not even flinching as the sword missed his face by a hair’s breadth.

“I have no time for fairy prince,” he grunted.

Cornelius quickly squared his shoulders and raised his sword back into a threatening stance, lifting his head higher though it did little to add to his intimidation. “I’m looking for my beloved and I won’t stop until I find her!”

The frog also raised his head, throat bulging into a menacingly loud croak. Pips leaned over Cornelius’s shoulder and whispered: “You might want to try a different tack. He’s not looking too friendly—”

“Her name is Thumbelina and she was kidnapped!”

“Why are you telling him this—”

“I know she was taken by a frog!”

“I am not frog. I am toad!” The mislabeled frog shouted, his eyes bulging out in rage.

Pips facepalmed to the side while Cornelius’s grip lowered in surprise. “You can’t tell the difference between a frog and a toad?”

“It’s not my fault!” he protested, “Thumbelina’s dog said that a frog kidnapped her! Or… or maybe he did say a toad, my dog is pretty rusty. I might have misheard.”

“Shouldn’t trust humans to make smart fairies in their stories,” Pips muttered to himself before stepping in front of his companion. “Look, my friend here… he’s a sheltered guy. I know you’re probably used to getting mistaken for a frog all the time, but I promise he wasn’t being offensive on purpose, he was just given false information!” 

“What are you doing?” Cornelius hissed.

“Trying to diffuse the situation!” he shot back before turning to the toad again, “So what do you say, buddy? Can we start this conversation over?”

The grumpy toad slammed his fist into his palm and Pips gulped. “No! I am toad, not frog,” he growled, “And I look for Thumbelina. She gonna marry my cousin Grundel. I help him look for her!”

Cornelius, enraged at his words, pushed Pips aside. “I’ll never let her fall into your hands!”

“Wait!” Pips yelled just as he rushed in to attack, but the crash was unstoppable.

The toad was at least three times Cornelius’s size and easily grabbed his wrist before his sword could do any damage. Cornelius writhed in his grip, but his efforts were futile. The toad tossed him into the water and promptly jumped in after him. Pips steeled himself and leaped into the fray, wrapping his arms around their foe’s throat.

“Get off him, ya big lug!” he grunted with the effort to keep hold as the toad swung around madly in a bid to shake him off.

His biceps strained painfully from his grip and he cried out as slimy hands scratched at his shoulders. Cornelius was half-submerged and coughing water, struggling to get to his feet.

“I crush you!” shouted the toad, turning his attention back to the more vulnerable of the two. Just as he raised his leg to kick Cornelius back down, Pips grabbed his whiskers (why did a toad even have whiskers? _Human stories_ , he thought disdainfully) and yanked out fistfuls of bristly black hair.

The toad howled in agony and reared back just as Pips slid off his shoulders and into the water. As he spat out a mouthful of pond slime, Cornelius was frantically searching for his sword, submerged somewhere in the murkiness. His eyes lit up as he came upon something and quickly pulled it out, pointing it at their enemy with a triumphant cry.

Both Pips and the toad froze.

It was a moss-covered twig.

“Uh.” Cornelius stared wide-eyed at it, then at Pips, silently begging for aid. 

The toad’s rage, fuelled by the sting of his unwilling wax session, reached its boiling point. He pounced on Cornelius with a bellowing croak, but was quickly pushed back by his panicking enemy poking his still raw cheeks with the twig. He howled and clutched at his missing moustache.

“That’s right! Stay down!” Cornelius cried with newfound courage. 

The toad glowered at him, still hiding his naked shame with his hands. “You are bad fairy prince. You never get Thumbelina.”

“I wouldn’t call him bad, just… inexperienced in brawling,” said Pips. He ignored Cornelius’s indignant sputter. “Now you’re going to tell us what you know about where she is, or else.” He rubbed his fingers in a silent threat to pull out more whiskers.

The toad grumbled and turned away to protect his cheeks. “I don’t know where she go. My cousin leave her on lily pad in big pond and then she disappear. I look in river and he look in grass. I see bird fly from far and he sing about her.” He pointed downstream where the water current flowed a little faster. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Then we keep going south,” Cornelius said, tossing the twig away. “We’re getting closer, I can feel it! I just need to find my sword.”

He knelt down and began to feel around under the water. Pips, who had a sharp eye for shiny things, sidled up to the toad.

“What’s your name, buddy? I feel like we should be on a first-name basis after our little fight.”

The toad looked at him suspiciously and quickly brought his hands up to hide his remaining facial hair. “Tato,” he muttered.

“Well, scooch over, Tato. You’re sitting on something I need.”

Seconds later he approached Cornelius, who was still frantically splashing about, and cleared his throat.

“What?” the fairy prince sounded exasperated but went still as Pips handed him his sword. He gingerly took it and slid it back in its sheath, cheeks reddening.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Don’t mention it. Also, you’ve got a little—” Pips wiped some slime off his shoulder and chuckled. “We both might want to dry off a bit.”

Cornelius’s clothes were completely drenched. They would’ve sagged off him had they not been so tight-fitting. Pips could see the plane of his biceps and the sharp curve of his pecs now very visible underneath his thin tunic. Who knew the fairy prince actually had a fine figure underneath his silly costume. He wondered how a body could be mesmerizing when it wasn’t even fully exposed.

“You’d actually look pretty good in a petal skirt like mine,” he said, “All the girls would be after you.”

Cornelius let out a small laugh and shook his head. “I don’t think I could. I don’t have your shoulders! Look at them, they’re…” He waved at Pips’s upper body, his words trailing off as he stared. He quickly cleared his throat and busied himself with wringing water out of his tunic.

“I mean— I don’t want girls coming after me anyway. There’s only one girl I love.”

Pips pinched his lips to keep from laughing. He waited until the urge passed before he spoke again. “You wouldn’t have to spend so much time pouring water out of your shoes if you were dressed like me, so my clothes win.”

He floated past Cornelius and shook his wet hair at him, delighting in the indignant cries he received. 

It would take too long for his clothes to dry completely, so Cornelius contented himself with wringing out as much water as he could and hastily untangling his hair with his fingers before flying back to Buzzby. 

“We need to hurry. Thumbelina will be in more danger on her own after sunset. Once we find her, then we can help you find your way back home.”

“I thought you told me to find my own way home,” Pips said.

Cornelius paused, helmet in his hands. “You offered your help first. I couldn’t have defeated that toad without you. It’s only honourable that I return the favour.”

Pips was pleasantly surprised; perhaps his decision to help the little fairy prince complete his story would prove to be the right one. “Much appreciated,” he said, “Now if we’re going to keep searching, you’d better scoot over. Wouldn’t be fair to let you have all the comfort!”

He hopped on Buzzby and wrapped his arms around Cornelius once more. The other fairy tensed only briefly against him before his back relaxed, even leaned slightly against Pip’s chest. They had chipped away at the uneasy wall between them, even if it was just a crack. A thin web of trust had been woven, fragile and tentative.

With a light tap on the bee’s middle, they were soaring back in the air.

  


* * *

  


It had been days since Thumbelina had seen her mother’s face. She hadn’t even thought of her for the last day. The world of beetles was one of brilliant lights and fast-paced chattering everywhere, and it was difficult to concentrate on her goal when the here and now was a kaleidoscope of distractions. It was exhilarating to be around others her size, albeit very different in form. None of the beetles looked like her fair Cornelius. And she stuck out like a sore thumb until the uncreatively named Mr. Beetle had whisked her away to a dressing room.

Now she was wrapped in a bulky dress scattered with patterns reminiscent of beetle shells. A heavy hat had been pasted to her head, with two long feelers dangling on either side of it. It was beginning to itch and she could feel beads of sweat trickling down her neck from the heat, but she was reluctant to ask for a wardrobe change.

Mr. Beetle had gathered her along with his dance troupe to rehearse for their number they were to perform the following evening. He had directed Thumbelina to stand and sway on a platform behind the chorus line, which was easy enough. She enjoyed watching them jig in unison while the band played in time with Mr. Beetle’s loud counts. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced; waltzing to her own singing back home was one thing. Sometimes she did little performances for the barn animals and they had always been an appreciative audience. But she had never been part of a collaborative performance before, and it was exciting. Hundreds of beetles would be coming tomorrow night, Mr. Beetle had told her, and all to see them put on a show. 

“Earth to TOOTS!” someone bellowed, and Thumbelina nearly jumped right out of her dress.

The band’s energetic music petered out into a jumble of mismatched notes and then into silence punctuated by a few grumbles. Mr. Beetle was right in her face, holding his hand out to her.

“Are you daydreaming about the applause already? You missed your cue! You were supposed to take my arm and strut to the front of the stage after the second verse!”

He gestured to the spot she was meant to be at, and Thumbelina had to hide her laughter behind her fingers. His angry face was too comical to inspire any sort of shame in her.

“I’m sorry Mr. Beetle,” she said, “This is all so new to me!”

“That’s just the glamour of showbiz, baby. It’ll lose its sparkle after the first ten performances, believe me. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give our audience the perfect show!”

He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close with a leer. “And with a gorgeous new addition to our act, we’ll get the best review in the Bug Times. Wouldn’t you love to see your name gracing the marquee?”

Thumbelina hadn’t gotten used to how handsy he was and squirmed out of his grip. “I—Well, I don’t know. What’s a marquee?”

“Don’t you love entertaining an audience? You’re born for the spotlight, I can tell!” he continued.

“Well… yes, I do,” she confessed, thinking of her delight when the animals at home bleated their appreciation when she sang for them. Even her awkward performance with the toads had given her a rush when their audience of amphibians and fish had applauded with great enthusiasm.

“But I also love Cornelius and I promised him I would meet his parents!”

Mr. Beetle scoffed. “Right, right, that fairy prince you keep telling me about. Listen, fairies wouldn’t know a good tune if it bit them on their silky behinds! It’s all pan pipes and tinkling bells with them. You’re in the most happening place in town, toots! Here is where you can swing all night long and then squeeze in some more swinging in the morning!”

“Well that kind of music sounds lovely to me! And please don’t call me toots—”

“Whatever you say, babe. Could your fairy prince make you a star like I’m about to?”

“That does sound nice,” Thumbelina conceded, “But I only promised to do this if you would fly me up this tree so I could find my house.”

Mr. Beetle leaned in close with an unsettling grin. “If our show is a success, I’ll fly you to the highest branch. But first, you gotta sing for me.”

On the night of the show, Thumbelina didn’t sing. On the day after that, Mr. Beetle dropped her on the ground and told her that she hadn’t honoured their deal.

“But I didn’t have time to get to my solo!” she protested, “My costume fell off, and then everyone stared, and—”

“Look, toots. You weren’t what the audience wanted. It’s nothing personal, it’s just show business.”

And there she was abandoned, shivering in the grass. She wasn’t sure where she was or which way to go, but with the darkening sky obscuring the path ahead, there was no other option but to find higher ground. 

It was difficult to navigate the veritable sea of fallen leaves, but Thumbelina waded as best she could until she found a small bare rock in a clearing, still weakly lit by the last rays of the setting sun. She crawled her way up and curled herself into a ball, hiding her head in the crook of her arms. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, nothing to stop the burn of unuttered sobs searing her throat. 

“Why… What is the matter, Thumbelina?” said a voice so unexpectedly that her head shot up, all traces of tears vanishing in an instant.

Jacquimo the strangely dressed bird had somehow found her again. Her heart swelled at seeing a friendly face and she quickly wiped the sniffles from her nose, eager to look presentable.

“Oh Jacquimo, I’m so happy to see you! I’m more lost than ever!”

“But how, mon amie? Were you not with the jitterbugs, on your way home?”

Thumbelina shook her head, despair once more gripping her like the icy wind that whistled through the clearing. She told him of her encounter with the beetle, of the wardrobe malfunction that had left her at the mercy of their cruel taunts about her hideousness.

By the end of her tale, her voice was too broken to be properly heard and she quickly hid her face in her hands. Jacquimo wrapped his wing around her small frame, shielding her from the night cold.

“Ah, but why would you listen to the beetle’s opinion? Prince Cornelius, he thinks you are beautiful, yes?”

Thumbelina shyly looked up from her hands, still sniffling. “I think so. He said my voice was lovely.” She paused, reflecting on the memory of bright lights and loud music.

“Jacquimo, the beetle treated me poorly, but… when I was dancing for everyone, I was happy. Just like when I sing to the farm animals at home, I’m happy when they listen. I used to wonder what a small person like me could do in a big world like this. But when I sing, anyone can enjoy it, big or small. And then I feel like that’s what I’m meant to do: make people happy by singing. Isn’t that funny?”

“Ah, you are a natural performer!” Jacquimo declared, “A true artist delights in bringing joy to their audience! And soon, you will spread your joy to the vale of the fairies when I find your Prince Cornelius tomorrow!”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Thumbelina agreed, allowing herself a small smile, “And then I could sing his favourite song there, and… hm. I don’t actually know what his favourite song is.”

Jacquimo leaned against the rocky wall jutting out behind them and gestured for her to come over. As she crawled over to him and cuddled up to his side, he murmured dreamily: “Ma chère, all you need to do is follow your heart. It will tell you what to sing for him, and he will love it!”

Thumbelina frowned. “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask him?”

Jacquimo cooed and draped his wing around her like a blanket. “If you are in love, you know each other’s hearts as well as your own.”

It was a beautiful sentiment, but she wasn’t sure it made much sense. Cornelius was tall and agile, with a brilliant smile and a warm gaze that made her insides flutter and grow warm. That was the feeling of love, surely. Thumbelina had read enough fairytales to recognize the sentiment. Yet there were many things she didn’t know about him: what his childhood was like, how he felt about his royal title, or even his favourite food. 

She didn’t know what his life dream was, and there she tasted bitter disappointment that her love wasn’t enough to magically intuit it. But she was also just discovering what her own dream could be: somewhere on a bright stage, letting her voice soar with joy.

“Maybe we just need to be together again to read each other’s hearts,” she concluded, moving her head so that it rested just above Jacquimo’s heartbeat. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was Cornelius’s lulling her to sleep.

“And so you shall be,” he murmured.

Thumbelina yawned as the warmth of her feathery blanket covered her in the exhaustion she had kept at arm’s length all day. There would be time to plan tomorrow. 

Another thought popped into her mind just before she could succumb to sleep.

“Why are you going to look for the vale of the fairies? Shouldn’t we be looking for my house first?” she asked.

Her only answer was Jacquimo’s soft snoring.


	4. Chapter 4

They had made no headway since their encounter with the toad. The leaves had begun to fall at a faster rate with each passing day, swirling around them in a frenzied dance of bright colours. It was a credit to Cornelius’s long hours riding Buzzby rather than dutifully adhering to his official butterfly mount that they managed to avoid getting swept away. The ground was a veritable sea of fire, covering the green grass below until it was nearly invisible.

Thumbelina wouldn’t leave any tracks they could find—an unfortunate effect of being tiny creatures in a big world. Cornelius was reduced to shouting her name into the wind in desperate hopes that he would be answered. He kept at it every day it until his voice grew hoarse and Pips clamped a hand around his mouth to save him further throat ache (and sanity, no doubt). His strange companion had taken to sitting behind him on Buzzby to conserve energy, though he always started the morning flying by himself. Cornelius had grown used to the warmth of another on his back, so tense had he been at first at the rather intimate contact. The only one he had ever ridden with like this was Thumbelina on that cherished night they’d met. But now, after many days of strong arms around his waist and lighthearted banter in his ears, it had become a different experience. Pips was a talkative wall: solid and unshakeable, and incredibly irritating when Cornelius was trying to focus.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed not for the first time that day, “I don’t know how you’re not looking at this! The leaves are just changing colour so quickly!”

“Autumn has been happening for days now,” Cornelius said, “Why are you still so fascinated?”

“My home forest is always green. And rainy. And a lot warmer than this.”

Cornelius felt him shiver and he shook his head. “We need to find you some proper clothes. You’re not going to last long like this, it’s only going to get colder.”

“You mean dress like you?” Pips sounded affronted at the very notion, and Cornelius bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from defending the fashions of his court. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re that much better off. I can practically feel all of your muscles through this shirt.”

“No you can’t!” Cornelius retorted, reddening.

“Fine. _Almost_ all of your muscles. I see how you curl up on yourself at night, you’re not doing much better.”

When the sun left the world and flying became unwise in the dark woods, they sheltered under flower petals where they could find soft surfaces to sleep on. The days had grown shorter and the nights colder, and both had resorted to curling around either side of Buzzby’s fuzzy body for warmth. But soon, that wouldn’t be enough.

“Let me try something,” said Pips.

He leaned forward, tucking his legs closer so that they brushed against Cornelius, who nearly jumped out of his skin at the new contact. Before he could say anything, a strange warmth tickled the backs of his knees, creeping up his legs in a comforting embrace. Cornelius looked down and saw, through the thin opening of his visor, hints of Pips’s magic green glow enveloping them both. The heat didn’t make it past his waist, but he already felt better than before.

“Thank you,” he said just as the glow vanished and the cold winds slammed against their legs once more. Pips shuddered behind him and tightened his hold.

“Sorry. I’ve never really used my magic like that before. I’ll probably need some time to practice.”

“Hopefully you won’t need to,” Cornelius replied, “We’ll find Thumbelina before the weather gets worse!”

The wind picked up in force as if to rail against his words; it was becoming more difficult to navigate around the torrent of leaves hurtling towards them. Cornelius glanced around to pinpoint where they were, but this was farther than he had ever traveled before. His overprotective mother had always been reluctant to let him fly more than a day’s ride away from the Vale; it had been countless days since he’d left home, long enough that autumn was pushing full force against his father’s magic to keep the cold at bay. 

Just as he was desperately looking for a safe landing spot to formulate a better search plan than flying aimlessly against the wind, Cornelius spotted a large hollow log ahead. Even from a distance, he could tell it glittered with life within its sheltering wood. He squeezed Buzzby’s haunches, urging him faster.

They landed inside where it was a relief to be free of the wind and leaves. Pips was the first to slide off and Cornelius heard him utter a little “oh” of surprise. Once he removed his helmet, he understood why; the log was filled to the brim with jitterbugs, all huddled together, hiding away from the harsh outside. He hadn’t thought there would be so many.

“I’m looking for a beautiful young woman,” he urgently addressed the crowd, “Her name is Thumbelina.”

The jitterbugs gaped at him. More accurately, a good number of them were staring at Pips, who did his best to look nonchalant under such intense scrutiny. A few mothers hastily covered their children’s eyes from his scandalous attire. Normally Cornelius would have apologized for his companion’s inappropriate dress, but he was in too much of a hurry to care.

“Please,” he begged, “I have to find her before winter gets here!”

Something tugged on his tunic, and he looked down to see a little wide-eyed gnat in bright red trousers.

“Are you the fairy prince?” he asked in awe.

“I am.”

One of the gnat’s friends hopped to his side, looking distraught. “Thumbelina’s gone!” she exclaimed.

“Where? Where did she go?”

“The beetle took her away,” said the little gnat sadly.

“He—he took her out there? In that weather?” Cornelius looked in horror at the chaos outside of the log.

“Could you maybe specify which beetle? There’s probably more than one in this whole forest,” said Pips.

“His name is Mr. Beetle!”

“How helpful.” 

Cornelius scanned the trees around them, chewing feverishly on his bottom lip. He knew where the beetles’ home tree was. They would have to fly back the way they came, and would mercifully be a lot closer to Thumbelina’s house.

While he was busy mentally re-adjusting their search route, the jitterbug children turned their attention to Pips, who crossed his arms in an attempt to look aloof.

“Are you a fairy prince too?” asked the little gnat boy.

“Me? Nah, I’m just his travel buddy. And also way too awesome to be a prince.”

The children gasped and giggled and jumped around him in circles while the adult jitterbugs eyed him warily. He was just about ready to wave them away when Cornelius grabbed his arm and pulled him towards Buzzby.

“We still have time before the frost comes! My father can delay it for another week or two at most, but once he can’t anymore, it’s going to come crashing down on the forest.”

“You expect us to make any headway in that weather?” Pips said.

“I have to try!” Cornelius jammed his helmet back on and hopped on his mount. He sent the jitterbugs a quick thanks and the children happily waved him off. One of the boys stuck his tongue out at Pips, who would have done the same had Cornelius not tugged insistently on his ear.

Buzzby was jolted backwards for a few seconds as the howling wind pushed against them, but he bravely soldiered through. Cornelius steered them through a wide gap between the trees where the sunlight didn’t filter in as easily but where the wind’s force was also lessened. They would find less distraction from flying leaves and could thus double their speed.

“So, you got any plans once we find Thumbelina?” asked Pips.

“I’m going to marry her!” he replied joyfully, hope filling his heart once more. 

“Of course you are. All the love stories I heard as a kid end in marriage. Guess your story isn’t so different. You’ve already told me it was love at first sight.”

“It was! I heard her sing and my heart was lost.”

He heard Pips laugh. “I bet you did.”

“You haven’t heard her sing!” he protested, “If you did, you’d understand!”

“Understand what, your highness? All you’ve told me about her—and you haven’t told me much—is that she’s beautiful and has a nice voice and that she’s kind. Because that’s literally all you know about her.”

The truthful sting hit its mark, ruthlessly piercing Cornelius’s fragile hope. All that he clung to now was anger. 

“That’s all I need to know! My heart tells me she’s the one! Just because you don’t know how to follow yours doesn’t mean I don’t listen to mine!”

“Just because your heart tells you something doesn’t mean it’s going to happen! There are things you just can’t control!”

They were so lost in their bickering that they never heard the warning swoop from above, and by the time the hawk shrieked it was too late. Giant talons swiped the air and knocked them both off Buzzby’s back. Cornelius spun out of control, head rattling against the inside of his helmet. Dizziness took hold, but he forced his wings to beat until he could right himself again. 

Through the slit in his visor, he saw the hawk chasing a green glow zipping around. Pips could fly faster than any fairy Cornelius had ever met, but the howling winds slowed him tremendously and threw him off balance. In a split second of ill-timed flips, the hawk caught him in its grip.

“No!” Cornelius shouted, though his cry lost to the wind. He pulled out his rapier without thinking and raced towards them. Sliding deftly underneath the hawk, he frantically stabbed at its legs, but his little weapon did nothing against such an enormous foe. The hawk continued its flight unperturbed, with Cornelius clinging to one of its talons.

Pips’s head was barely jutting out of its grip, his skin turning a deep purple the tighter it squeezed. Cornelius was ready to tear his hair out in frustration... when that suddenly gave him an idea.

He flew underneath the hawk’s wings, taking care to avoid its free claw, and took hold of one of its tailfeathers. With one great yank, the bird shrieked and dropped its prey. Pips limply tumbled out and would have dropped straight to the ground had Cornelius not caught him by his arms.

“I’ve got you!”

Pips had no thanks to give, only a wide-eyed look of panic and a raspy warning that came too late. White-hot pain lashed through Cornelius’s leg and he cried out, fingers digging hard into Pips’s arms in agony.

The hawk was rearing back for another attack, its voice rising to a near whistle-high pitch. Pips cursed and wrapped his arm around Cornelius, urging him to fly faster. The two raced along the wind current, boosting each other’s speed with their respective magic. The hawk kept chase, gaining on them inch by inch, undeterred by the branches and swirling leaves flying their way.

“We need to find a hiding spot!” Cornelius shouted.

“Not seeing any right now!” Pips shot back.

One quick glance behind them revealed the hawk’s beak, wide open and sharp as arrows, ready to clamp down on their legs without mercy. Cornelius made his decision in a split second; he grabbed Pips by the arm and pulled them both downwards. They hurtled downwards with alarming speed, Pips’s yell nearly drowned out by the hawk’s shrieks. Cornelius grit his teeth and pressed them faster, every muscle tensed to time his swoop for the right moment.

Just before they hit the ground, he pulled them up so that they flew straight into a dead hollow log. The hawk’s talons viciously scraped across its bark but left them unscathed, and it rose into the air with an angry cry. They lay flat on their backs with hammering hearts, waiting for its screeches to fade into the distance. Even after it had disappeared, they kept up their breathless vigil for another minute.

Finally, Pips dared to crawl out to the log’s edge to peer at the sky. 

“I think it’s gone.”

“Good. We need to find Buzzby and—argh!” Cornelius had tried to stand, but his leg throbbed in full force and he fell backwards. His adrenaline was dissolving, leaving the pain to return without distraction. He looked down and saw a deep red gash across his thigh.

Pips hissed. “That doesn’t look good.”

“I’m fine!” Cornelius said through gritted teeth, sounding anything but. “I just need to find Buzzby!”

Another failed attempt to stand had Pips pushing him back down. The pain in his leg doubled and he arched his back with a groan.

“Will you stop?” Pips admonished, “Look, just stay here and I’ll—wait! D’you hear that?”

The faint sounds of buzzing grew louder in the air until something large and fuzzy swooped in from outside and spun around, frantically trying to brake.

Pips raised his eyebrows at Buzzby. “Huh. Smarter than I gave him credit for.”

Cornelius sighed in relief and held his hand out for his faithful friend to anxiously nudge with his feelers.

“I’m glad you’re alright, boy. Now let’s keep going!” He made to hoist himself onto Buzzby’s saddle but was pulled back down by a now-irate Pips.

“You’re seriously thinking of flying out there without tending to your leg? Just how hopeless are you?”

“It’s just a scratch!” Cornelius said hotly, “I’m not going to stop for every little hurt when Thumbelina could be out there in worse danger!” His spirited words were dampened by a hiss as a fresh wave of pain shot up his leg.

Pips muttered a few things that would have scandalized the fairy court before propping his injured companion against the log wall.

“I’m not the best healer, but let me try something.”

He gently placed his hands over the wound. Another sting of pain erupted, and Cornelius bit down on his lower lip.

Pips’s strange magic gradually trickled across his leg, encasing it in that now-familiar green glow. The hurt slowly dulled to a bearable level under his careful healing, and Cornelius was able to sit up a little straighter.

“I… guess I should say thanks for saving me,” Pips muttered.

He could tell this admission didn’t come easy, and Cornelius let out a quiet laugh. “Well, you saved me from the toad, so that makes us even. My father always says to never leave your debts unpaid. It would bring dishonour on our family and our court.”

“That’s not a bad life lesson.” Pips pursed his lips. “I, uh… I also want to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He waved one hand around as if hoping to catch the right words out of thin air. “For… You know!”

Cornelius didn’t know. His blank expression must have made that obvious, because Pips blew air out of his puffed cheeks in frustration.

“What I said about you and Thumbelina… I’m sorry. Maybe you don’t know her very well, but you know what you feel for each other. Maybe that’s all that matters. Sometimes you can know someone your whole life, but that doesn’t mean you’ll end up together.”

The sadness in his voice seeped into Cornelius’s skin like his magic did, wrapping around his heart and squeezing it into a very different kind of agony than the one that plagued his leg. 

“Back home…” Pips paused, hesitant. Over the past few weeks together, Cornelius had learned much about his companion’s loud manners, his sarcastic quips, and his surprising acts of kindness (often followed by more sarcastic quips). But he never spoke of his mysterious home, save for a few passing descriptions. He wasn’t sure what kept him so tight-lipped, and he hadn’t prodded much in his single-focused quest to find Thumbelina.

“My best friend, Crysta,” Pips finally spoke, and Cornelius felt a little thrill run up his spine. “We grew up together. I’ve loved her, always. As far as I can remember. But at some point, my feelings changed into a different kind of love while hers stayed the same.”

“So she’s not in love with you?” Cornelius asked.

“No. Her feelings are for someone else. Someone who she can’t be with for… complicated reasons. I guess we’re both stuck in the same situation.” His chuckle was as dry as the fallen leaves strewn around them.

“But— But if you love her, you should fight for her!” Cornelius said with earnest passion.

“Against what, your highness? She wasn’t kidnapped by some evil toads like your girl was. She just doesn’t feel the same way for me. I’ve accepted that. Besides, feelings can change. Who knows, I might meet someone new. Someone who shares my feelings this time.”

The confidence in his voice shook Cornelius to the core. He remembered his dance with Thumbelina under the stars, the pictures in his memory blurred by time but still bright enough for him to call upon them. They had marveled and admired one another, and pitched their voices in such perfect harmony that Cornelius had felt the certainty of their destiny together, solid as stone in his heart. 

He had grown up with tales of true love, of heroic princes such as the one he strove to be, meeting their fair maidens and living happily ever after. That was the way of the world, wonderful in its simplicity. But that was also before he had met the strangest fairy whose magic wasn’t made of wing dust, who had never heard of changing seasons, and thought beetles were like bees. All of a sudden, Cornelius reddened.

“You probably think I’m foolish,” he said, “For believing that my love story should happen for everyone as easily as it did for me.”

Pips shook his head. “No, you’re not foolish! You’re just… very… earnest?” he loudly cleared his throat. “Look! Your leg’s better!”

Cornelius glanced down. The pain had ebbed, but the gash was still there, albeit a little smaller and shallower than before. He frowned at Pips, who made a big show of crossing his arms.

“Hey, I told you I wasn’t the best healer! I’ve got more practice mending tree roots, alright?” He tapped a finger on his bicep, glowering at his half-finished work. “We can’t just leave it as it is, it might get infected. And continuing our search in this weather isn’t the best idea. I say we go back to the other log where all the bugs are and see if they can help.”

His suggestion was a most sensible one, especially as the sky outside was turning a low shade of orange. Evening was creeping in, and temperatures were sure to drop even lower.

“Alright,” said Cornelius, “Let me get on Buzzby and—”

“I’ll fly him!” Pips interrupted, jabbing his thumb proudly onto his chest.

“You don’t know how!”

“Can’t be that hard, can it? Besides, Buzzby probably remembers the way, right boy?” He patted the bumble’s fuzzy rump. “Do you remember where the other bugs are?”

Buzzby twirled around them excitedly before lowering himself so that Pips could help Cornelius onto his back.

“Don’t tug too hard on his feelers!” he warned as Pips adjusted himself in the saddle’s front.

“Re- _laaaax_. I’ll be as gentle as a—whoa!”

Just as Cornelius had feared, he’d taken hold of Buzzby’s feelers with more force than necessary. He had just enough time to throw his hands around Pips’s waist before they were shooting into the sky. Thankfully, Buzzby did know where to go, so there was very little guidance needed on Pips’s part. 

They landed inside the jitterbug sanctuary to the surprise of all. Pips slid off with his usual lack of grace, giving them a quick explanation as he helped Cornelius dismount. The jitterbugs rushed to their aid and led them to a makeshift bedroll where Pips gently placed his companion. 

“Oh dear, that will need a cleaning!” said a butterfly matron. She hurried off for supplies, her vacant spot taken over by the children they had spoken to earlier. They looked at Cornelius with wide eyes, letting out little gasps as they took in his wound.

“Hey! Shoo! Give him some space!” Pips waved them off and they flew away squealing, only to slowly inch closer again.

“It’s alright,” said Cornelius, “They’re just curious, that’s all.”

The butterfly returned with a bowl of water, a pouch of leaves and a roll of linen. Cornelius closed his eyes as she got to work; now that he was lying down, the exhaustion he had been pushing away fell upon him like a heavy rock. He could feel wet cloth running across his thigh, warm and soothing, inviting him to give in to sweet oblivion. It was a tempting offer, but cut short by the replacement of an icy balm on his skin.

“Oh!” his eyes flew open with a start as he shivered.

The butterfly quickly pushed him back down. “Nothing to worry about, your highness. The mending herbs are supposed to feel cold. Now we just need to wrap this up!”

The initial shock had worn off, leaving Cornelius to ease into the soothing cool feeling that numbed any remaining pain.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he said, “I wouldn’t have been able to continue this quest without you.”

“Hey now, you’ve got me looking out for you!” Pips interjected, “I wasn’t about to leave you in that freezing log on your own.”

He smiled. “You’re right. You also did your part to help me heal.”

“We helped too!” said the little gnat boy in red shorts. His two companions loudly agreed, hopping around them in excitement.

Cornelius laughed. “Yes, you helped us find a trail for Thumbelina! You were the biggest help of all!” He ignored Pips dramatically rolling his eyes. “In fact, I’d like to know your names so that I can tell the fairy court what heroes you are.”

The children beamed at each other. The gnat was the first to recover from this prestigious honour and said: “I’m Gnatty! And this is Li’l Bee and Baby Bug!”

“Wow, those are great names!”

“Why are you encouraging them?” Pips muttered. 

Cornelius wrinkled his nose at him. “Because they’re heroes! You’re just jealous I’m not doing the same for you.”

Before Pips could reply, the butterfly nurse declared the bandages tightly wrapped. Cornelius was now able to bend his leg without any trouble, and he did so a few times.

“I think we’ll be able to fly out in the morning,” he said.

“In this weather? Oh dear!” said a ladybug who had come to collect the children, “We couldn’t possibly let you go without any winter clothes! My husband has some spare coats lying around. If a few of us work together to make some alterations, I’m sure we could have you fitted in more…” she gave Pips a shrewd once-over. “… Appropriate attire.”

She scurried away, forgetting to usher her children to bed in her haste. They were free to frolic around their new fairy friends, to Cornelius’s amusement and Pips’ annoyance.

The little girl named Baby Bug squealed and spun around Cornelius’s head. “You’re wearing the necklace I made for Thumbelina!”

Cornelius looked down at the forget-me-nots on his collarbone. They had survived the ordeal with the hawk, much to his surprise.

“I am,” he replied, “She gave it to me so that I would never forget her.”

“That’s so romantic!” Baby Bug sighed, clasping her hands together.

Cornelius turned to Pips, expecting a wry comment to cut through the sentimentality. Instead, Pips crossed his arms and gave him a crooked smile. One that created a little dimple in his cheek and made Cornelius grow warm.

“Guess some of us are just lucky in love,” he said.

Cornelius feigned fatigue by curling on his side, hoping to hide his reddening face. “I don’t know if having your beloved kidnapped counts as lucky.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get your happily ever after,” Pips told him with confidence, “That’s how things are supposed to go around here, right?”

It was the way of the world, Cornelius thought. But he had no idea how to attain it.

As the night wore on and the wind’s forceful howls knocked uselessly against the log’s thick bark, he found no sleep. Pips was sprawled on the bedroll beside him, snoring peacefully. He would have loved to join in such bliss, but his mind rattled too much to let him rest.

His hands kept fiddling anxiously with his necklace, turning the forget-me-nots over and over in his fingers. His unwavering love for Thumbelina had thus far spurred him relentlessly in his search, but doubt now slowly crept into his heart like the cold forest branches that daily threatened to grip them out of the air as they flew. He wondered how Pips could be so sure of his fated happy ending when it was slowly slipping out of certainty.


	5. Chapter 5

By morning, the winds had weakened to a more tolerable breeze. The crisp air seeping into the log had Pips wrapping his arms around himself in a vain effort to stay warm. The thin blanket the jitterbugs had given him wasn’t the most effective barrier. 

A few pokes to the shoulder caused him to grumble and curl into a tighter ball.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Reluctantly, he turned around and opened his eyes. The three annoying children from last night swam into hazy view and he groaned.

“Mama says she’s finished your winter clothes!” said Lil Bee.

They parted when Cornelius approached with a bowl in his hands. He knelt down and placed it in front of Pips, which was reason enough for him to sit up. The promise of breakfast was a lot more enticing than the promise of funny clothing.

“The jitterbugs have a few berries stored for the winter. It’s probably the last time you’ll get to taste these,” Cornelius said.

There was a mix of blue and black berries the likes of which Pips had never seen. He scooped up a handful and tested them on his tongue. The bittersweet taste was refreshingly similar to the berries back home, and Pips made quick work of his breakfast bowl. 

“Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, we can get dressed and go on our way. It’s a two-day ride to the beetles’ abode and I want to start flying while the wind isn’t heavy.”

“Clean up from what?” asked Pips, oblivious to the dark juice stains smattered around his lips. The children pointed and giggled, and he successfully shooed them away with a pointed glare.

One reluctant rinse with a water bowl later, the two fairies were presented with tailored winter clothes. Cornelius immediately pulled them on, but Pips was suspicious. He shook the thick brown coat he’d been given, eyeing it warily as if it would leap forward and smother him.

“Do you need help?” Cornelius asked.

“No, I don’t need help! I can figure out which end of this goes where!” He huffily pulled it over his head and wrestled with the fabric, squirming so much that he looked like a caterpillar trying to burst from a cocoon.

After finally squeezing his arms through the puffy sleeve holes, he placed his hands on his hips with a triumphant cry. “See? What’d I tell… tell…?”

A long tuft of fur from his collar lodged itself up his nose, causing him to sneeze. Cornelius bit his knuckle, trying very hard not to laugh. The children had no such restraint and were rolling on the floor without a care.

Pips shoved the fur away with a sputter. “Hey! I managed, didn’t I?”

“You put it on backwards!” Gnatty cried.

He froze as the little brats dissolved into giggles again. Cornelius’s shoulders were shaking with the effort to remain silent, and Pips glared at him.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

“How about if I help you instead?” he asked with a wide grin.

“That’s saying too many words.”

Shaking his head, Cornelius took hold of his tunic before Pips could protest, and insistently tugged it over his head.

“Ow! Watch the hair!”

“Stop struggling, then!”

One final hard pull and it fell into Cornelius’s hands. Pips shook his mane free, spitting out stray hairs from his mouth. 

“Have you never really worn a tunic? Or a coat?”

“What part of ‘warm and rainy’ home forest don’t you understand?” he asked angrily.

Cornelius busied himself with pulling the sleeves out the right way, smiling all the while. “Maybe after Thumbelina and I are reunited, I’ll get to see your home. Since you’re helping me on my quest, it’s only fair I help you with yours.”

Pips instantly stopped squirming and looked down at his feet. “It… might be too far away,” he muttered, “Besides, what if you don’t have the magic I need to get back?”  
He looked up at the log ceiling, as if hoping by some vain miracle that Crysta could see him. 

“My parents are wise, and the court advisors are the keepers of all fairy knowledge and magic lore. I’m sure they’ll be able to find something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he replied evasively, “Now are you gonna help me put my shirt on or were you just looking for an excuse to admire me one last time?” He flexed a bicep for emphasis.

Cornelius frowned at him, but the pink in his cheeks was impossible to miss. He hastily pulled the coat over his head, leaving Pips to deal with shoving his arms through the sleeves on his own.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said, stomping away. Pips lifted the corner of his mouth in a crooked grin, preening like the peacock he was back home when the girls would flutter around him. Cornelius was no girl, but a blush was a blush and it pleased him all the same.

The hurdle of dressing now overcome, they were ready to continue their search. Cornelius mounted Buzzby before giving the jitterbugs his heartfelt thanks for their aid. He took flight into the crisp wind while Pips raced beside him for his usual morning wing stretch.

They left the clearing for the dense woods, retreading their path from the last few days to find the beetles’ home. Since they were headed straight for it rather than scouring the area for Thumbelina, they would make it long before the day’s end.

“Why would a beetle kidnap her?” Pips asked.

“Because they’re sneaky! Thumbelina’s voice is so beautiful they probably wanted to steal her for one of their horribly loud shows!”

“Wow, you really don’t like them.”

Cornelius shifted awkwardly in his saddle. “I’m supposed to try and get along with them, because I’m a prince. My father always says we must have good relations with all creatures—”

“Except for the ones that want to eat you,” Pips muttered darkly, remembering the hawk.

“— But I’m not very good at being diplomatic. I haven’t really practiced all that much.  
I’m good at riding bumbles and swordfighting, but I don’t have the patience to listen to audiences or talk to ambassadors. There’s a whole different side to being a prince, and it’s not one I’m any good at.”

Pips wanted to say that there couldn’t possibly be that much difficulty to it, not when you were part of such a simple story. But he pinched his lips and kept his eyes ahead, doing his best to bury his unease.

If all of this was just a story, it was more elaborately planned than what was told. Every unnamed creature lived and breathed, getting along with their lives, heedless of their background roles. And there was Cornelius, an honest and valiant hero like all good stories had, with memories of times past before Zak even uttered the words ‘Once upon a time’. Pips wondered how deeply Crysta’s magic had run through the very veins of the book. If she were able to, she would have pulled him out of it by now. What would he do if there was no way back? What if he helped Cornelius to the end, but remained stuck in this ridiculously cold forest? This quest was a gamble, and Pips had never liked to gamble unless he was reasonably confident the odds were in his favour.

They flew through the thicker part of the woods where the branches clustered together like grasping claws. It was a slow and careful trek, with Pips constantly keeping an ear out for any bird shrieks. Thankfully, they came out the other side of the wooded tangle with no predators on their tail, and back in view of the river.

“I can see Thumbelina’s house!” Cornelius cried, “The beetles’ domain is really close now!”

They followed the river’s length for a while until they found a waterfall. There was a bright tunnel entrance carved deep into a rocky wall, starkly glowing against the darkness around it, and that was where they landed

Pips tapped the smooth stone floor with his boot and whistled. “Pretty impressive place! Could do with a few more flowers, though.”

Cornelius stashed his helmet in Buzzby’s pack and beckoned him to follow. They entered the tunnel and were immediately blinded by the shining reflective surfaces assaulting them on all sides.

Pips ran his hand across the smooth, shining surface of the walls. “What is this?” he asked.

They were hard as stone yet gleamed with the brilliance of stars, and he could see his blurry reflection staring back at him. Sharp crystals jutted out from the ceiling and floors in uneven clusters, all pointing further down the tunnel like arrow guides.

“Beetles like fancy things,” Cornelius explained as he walked in quick strides, “They also like to take gold and jewels from human houses for more treasure.”

It was certainly more ostentatious than Pips was used to, and he walked more slowly than his companion, keeping his eyes squinted to stave off some of the brilliance.

They didn’t get very far when their path was blocked by an imposing creature almost twice their height. Pips assumed this was a beetle, and just like the toads in this story, it looked grotesquely humanoid.

“No fairies allowed,” he grunted.

Cornelius puffed up his chest and placed a hand on the pommel of his rapier. “I am the fairy prince, and I demand to be let through!”

“How many times are you going to try that act?” Pips mumbled, clutching at his cheeks in frustration.

The beetle crossed his arms and remained where he was. Cornelius took a defiant step forward, but his attempts at royal intimidation fizzled as he stood a good head below their nemesis.

“I know one of you took Thumbelina, and I will free her from your clutches no matter what it takes!”

“Thumbelina? Did he say Thumbelina?” a voice said from the room behind the bodyguard. “Move aside Bernard, lemme see who’s asking for her!”

Another beetle squeezed past him. This one was closer to fairy height, and was a tangle of gangly limbs that clicked with every step he took. He raised one eyebrow at them, rubbing his moustache pensively.

“So you’re the fairy prince she was goin on about! I was expecting someone, eh… handsomer. You know, perhaps a little more blue in the face!” He patted his sharp cheekbones and cackled. “But we’re not all born that lucky!”

“Tell me where she is and I might not report your kidnapping to my father,” Cornelius demanded.

The beetle ignored him and sauntered over to Pips. “Say, you don’t look like any of the hoity-toity fairies I’ve met,” he said, stroking his chin, “How’s your singing, bub? I could use another baritone in my group. I wouldn’t pay you in gems, but maybe a couple of flower petals per gig. That’s your currency, right?”

His long whiskers tickled unpleasantly at Pips’s cheeks and nose, and he deftly slapped it away.

“Just tell us where the girl is, bub,” he said angrily.

The beetle rubbed his stinging face and shuffled back, all oily pleasantries vanished. His grimace twisted his face into an even uglier mask than before.

“She ain’t here anymore. Ruined my show and boy, what a hideous mess she made of it. I kicked her to the curb days ago.”

Cornelius shoved him against the wall so forcefully that the beetle’s legs clattered together. He pulled out his rapier and pointed it at his temple.

“You heartless monster! You threw her out in the cold!” he snarled.

The beetle struggled against his grip, but his bony hands were too weak to free himself. “Look, it wasn’t personal! It was just business! And she was bad for business!”

“Cornelius, stop! We’re wasting our time with him!” Pips grabbed his shoulders but was roughly shoved back.

“Where did you leave her? Tell me now!”

The beetle squawked as Cornelius tightened his hold, scrabbling uselessly against his knuckles.

“Security!” he choked out, “Bernard, what do I pay you for!?”

The heavyset bodyguard plucked Cornelius by the scruff of his neck as if he were no lighter than a feather and tossed him to the ground. The beetle wheezed, taking a few seconds to regain his voice and the strength to stand upright.

“Get out before I have Bernard pull your wings off!” He yelled at Cornelius, who struggled to get to his knees.

Pips knelt down to help him, but was once again pushed away. The fairy prince rubbed angrily at his chin then flew down the crystal tunnel without a word. Pips was now alone with two hostile beetles and no weapons.

“Good luck with the show?” he ventured.

He swiftly escaped Bernard’s lunge and raced down the tunnel with his heart in his throat. The reflecting walls blinded him on all sides, but he didn’t stop, even with his eyes half-open against the shining lights. 

Every day, their quest was delayed by some new human-constructed monstrosity, and every day he felt hope slip through his fingers like petals in the wind. Was Pips’s presence throwing the story off course? Perhaps he had messed with its natural progression by trying to help, and was condemning them all to a tortuous, futile quest. Perhaps it would be best for him to part ways with Cornelius, leave him to find Thumbelina on his own and figure out another way home. 

But as he emerged from the tunnel, he was met with fresh horror. Cornelius had flown to a nearby tree and was violently slashing at its bark. Pips’s heart froze at the sight, like every cut was being made into his very core.

“Stop!” He lunged forward and pulled Cornelius’s arms back.

“Let me go!” 

Pips fought against his struggles, forcefully pinning him against the bark he had been vandalizing. “Don’t take your anger out on the tree! You’re only hurting it!”

Cornelius snarled so loudly that he flinched; it was an animalistic cry he had never heard him utter before. But it was enough to release his remaining aggression and his body sagged; he would have collapsed onto his knees had Pips not kept him upright.

“I’m a failure,” he said. His head was lowered, face hidden by his thick bangs, but his broken voice was enough to rattle even the most hard-hearted being.

“I’m not the prince I should be. I’m supposed to be the hero and rescue the girl I love, but I keep stumbling at every obstacle.”

He leaned his head against Pips’s chest, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. This little act of defeat was enough break Pips’s resolve. All thoughts of leaving fled from his mind as he held Cornelius closer.

“Hey. C’mon, you’re not giving up now, are you?”

Cornelius said nothing, so Pips gently pushed his chin up. The prince’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, brightened to a brilliant green that stood out against the dry brown landscape around them. They were really quite beautiful, Pips thought.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you’re the most frustrating and stubborn fairy I’ve ever met. And believe me, I know my fair share of stubborn fairies.”

Cornelius blinked.

“You’ve been flying in this ridiculous weather for weeks, wrestled a toad, almost got eaten by a bird, and you were ready to take on the scariest beetle I’ve ever seen. Are you really going to stop now? Because then you actually will be a failure.”

“I only made it out of those scrapes because you were there to help me.”

“We helped each other!” Pips insisted, “So… So why don’t we keep helping each other? We’ll get you your happily-ever-after because you’re trying so hard to reach it.”

Cornelius looked at him in bemusement, and Pips’s vehemence died in his throat as he was caught in those green eyes once more. It was an unprecedented level of proximity, one that made his head spin.

None of this was real, Pips thought. Cornelius wasn’t really here with him. He was a story, a tale spun by humans to tell their children at night. Yet he could feel the warmth and smoothness of his arms, tensing underneath Pips’s fingers. He could breathe in the warm air that brewed between them, as real as the sun’s heat he so loved to lie in. And the hammering of his heart against his ribs was no tale, as it thumped inside of him with such force that there was no ignoring it. That was what frightened him the most, moreso than any of the dangers they had faced.

Pips released Cornelius and took a step back, coughing into his fist. “Anyway, I want to see this so-called Vale of the Fairies now. You keep harping on about how great it is.”

Cornelius laughed weakly, rubbing his arm. He was shuffling awkwardly just as Pips was, his cheeks turning pink. “I don’t talk about it that much. But I would like to show it to you, once this is all over.”

He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter, looking Pips straight in the eye with a smile. “Thank you,” he said, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about _you_ , it’s that you always say what’s on your mind whether I want to hear it or not. That’s how I know you truly believe in my quest.”

This was too much sincerity for Pips to handle; he had only ever laid his heart bare to one other, and she was the one who had sent him here in the first place. “Don’t read too much into it,” he muttered, “You still get on my nerves all the time.”

Cornelius laughed. “We have that in common. But you’re not fooling me; you’re a lot kinder than you like to show.”

Pips turned away, refusing to give him any more emotional ammunition. He felt Cornelius brush past him and couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran up his spine. He almost hoped another bird would swoop down on them so he could focus on something else.

“We should search the area closer to the river tomorrow,” he heard Cornelius say, “There are less leaves on the ground there; it would make it easier for Thumbelina to travel that way.”

“Sounds like a plan,” was all he could think to reply.

Buzzby, who had been uncharacteristically silent during their little moment, resumed his usual noisy excitement and lowered his six little legs for Cornelius to climb onto his back.

They flew into the sky, gliding back into the turbulent winds and hurtling leaves. Pips glanced to his side and noticed that Cornelius hadn’t put on his helmet like usual. And when the prince turned to smile shyly at him, he smiled back. If they could change this story together, then there was still hope to hold on to.


	6. Chapter 6

As days went by, the leaves no longer posed an obstacle; they had all fallen to the ground and curled into cracked brown husks. Cornelius and Pips would fly for hours and call out Thumbelina’s name in the wind. Their only replies came from the forest’s animal inhabitants, but that did not deter Cornelius. He forged ahead with renewed hope, lit by Pips’s encouragement after their encounter with the beetles.

After the morning’s end, Pips would always sit behind him and resume his post as Cornelius’s backrest. They fit comfortably against each other, all previous awkwardness vanished. Now they snapped wordlessly into place like puzzle pieces as if they had done it all their lives. Even the inane banter Pips loved to partake in became an almost comfortable background noise that Cornelius occasionally listened to when he wasn’t so focused on searching the forest.

“So this happens every year?” Pips asked not for the first time.

Almost comfortable.

Cornelius sighed. “Yes, every year. The seasons change as time passes. Now can you please keep an eye out?”

“It would help if I actually knew what Thumbelina looked like. Describe her to me.”

“She’s beautiful,” Cornelius said, “She’s got long strawberry blonde hair and she wears a long blue skirt. Oh! And her eyes, they’re the colour of…”

The word died upon his lips as he realized it wouldn’t come to him immediately. He tried to conjure the memory of their night together, but her face was blurred in his mind’s eye. It was like trying to make out a reflection in rippling water. He had gazed deeply into her eyes that night, yet they were lost to him now.

Pips gently nudged his side. “The colour of…?”

Cornelius racked his brain once more, his foggy memory sifting through an ocean of hues. Teal. Azure. Sky. He wasn’t certain of any of them.

“I don’t remember,” he said, his heart sinking. “They were blue, I think. Or maybe light green? I don’t remember the exact shade.”

Pips’s arms tightened around him and he held his breath, waiting for the inevitable ribbing he would get.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. They’re blue, that’s good enough.”

Cornelius exhaled heavily. He wanted to believe in Pips’s gentle words, but the guilt churning in his heart was too strong. All of the romantic tales he had ever read described lovers unable to forget each other’s faces. He should have been able to retain the exact shade of Thumbelina’s eyes by the force of his love alone.

The only eyes he could picture vividly now were a deep green, and lusher than any blade of grass in the spring. He was frightened by how clearly he saw Pips’s face when he was lying in the dark of night, drawing him into wordless dreams. He had rationalized it as being the product of their days spent together. The blooming warmth in his chest was another issue he wasn’t prepared to fully delve into.

That evening, they took shelter in an abandoned bird’s nest built within the hollow of a tree. Pips lit up the little nook with his green glow as they ate the last of the berries they had stored in Cornelius’s pack, and afterwards they lay down side by side against Buzzby’s furry body. Pips had tried to kick off his boots before going to sleep, but the sharp cold was too much to bear. He reluctantly remained bundled up, but showed his displeasure by turning from side to side in an effort to get comfortable.

“You should be used to wearing clothes by now,” Cornelius said.

Pips stopped tossing and huffed. “Never. I’m only keeping these on because I’d freeze otherwise.”

“You never get cold in your home?”

“Nope. The rainforest is always warm and we want to feel free when we fly. All of this,” he plucked at the furs on his glove, “It keeps me warm but it’s hard to move in. I can’t wait to get it all off.”

“Does Crysta—” Cornelius paused, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Does she also wear very little?”

Pips chuckled as he tucked his hands behind his head. “You bet. All the girls do. Why, are you interested in checking them out?”

“No!” Cornelius sputtered. He had never even seen a woman’s bare thighs before; he wasn’t sure how he would react if confronted with them. 

When Pips’s grin refused to fade, he quickly added: “I mean—I’d maybe like to see how your people live. You must miss them.”

The grin slid from Pips’s lips as he contemplated the knotted ceiling. “I do,” he said after a silent beat, “I miss the smell of warm rain and how many pranks my friends and I would pull. I miss lying in the sun after a day’s work of growing more plants. I miss Crysta. I hope she’s not worrying herself too much over me.”

His eyes became sad as he lost himself in memories. Cornelius wondered if the pain of unrequited love still lingered, and the thought made his own heart hurt. His hand twitched, aching to reach out in a gesture of comfort, but he forced it to remain still.

“You told me that you would help me get to my happy ending because I was trying so hard to reach it,” he said quietly, “What’s your happy ending?”

Pips pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Finding a way home, I suppose.”

“Then we’ll make it happen. I told you before that I would help you and I will keep my promise. On my honour as prince.”

Pips gave him a half-smile that shouldn’t have warmed him as much as it did. “Thanks. For what it’s worth, it’s not so bad here. I’m not crazy about the cold, but some things are starting to grow on me.”

“Like what?” Cornelius asked.

Pips stared at him for a long silent moment that turned more awkward by the second. Finally, he cleared his throat and muttered: “Like the, uh… the leaves flying everywhere. I kind of miss them now.”

Cornelius closed his eyes. “They’ll grow back. And when they do, they’ll be green with new life.”

“Now that, I have to see.”

  


* * *

  


He slept dreamlessly, and would have been happy to continue if not for the violent tremors. 

“Cornelius, wake up! Wake up!”

He was shaken awake and staring straight into widened green eyes. He tried to speak, but all that came out were dry wheezes.

“Everything is white!” Pips yelled into his face.

He was unceremoniously dropped to the ground as the other fairy zoomed out of the nest. With great effort, Cornelius rose to his feet and trudged to the opening. The world outside was indeed a sea of white, with more falling gently from the sky.

Pips flew in maddening circles at such speed that it was dizzying to look at. Once he made it back into the nest, his dark clothes were covered in flakes. One sweep of his arm melted them into the fabric and he gasped.

“What is this?”

“Snow,” Cornelius replied, “Winter is here.”

“This is winter?” Pips poked his head out of the tree in wonder. “I thought you were just pulling my leg when you described it!”

“It usually comes a bit earlier, but my father was holding back the frost for us. He couldn’t delay it anymore so it must have all come at once during the night.”

He didn’t share Pips’s childlike excitement; falling snow would be just as much of an impediment as flying leaves. Buzzby was not fit for winter, which was when he normally hibernated. He had hoped to find Thumbelina long before the season’s arrival.

“If you need to go back, I’ll understand,” he told Buzzby.

The ever-loyal bumble shook his head and nuzzled his palm. Touched, Cornelius gently ran his hands across his fuzzy head before taking out his sleeping blanket to drape over his back. It would do little against the cold, but it was better than nothing. 

They flew out of the tree and into a flurry of snowflakes. Cornelius found it more difficult to see than when the autumn leaves were doing their seasonal dance. The one thing that was unmistakably visible was Pips’s excited green glow as he skimmed the ground, intent on touching as much snow as he could.

“This is amazing!” he yelled as he drew another deep trail with his hand. 

Cornelius smiled despite himself; his companion’s glee was infectious. Pips grazed the surface with his feet and drew spontaneous patterns, stuck his tongue out to taste the flakes, and even threw himself face first into the snow so as to leave a deep, Pips-shaped hole in the ground. It was rather endearing to watch for the first hour or two.

As time passed and his excitement had yet to dim, Cornelius was beginning to feel the familiar pangs of irritation.

“Can you please focus?” he said, trying to muster a tone of royal authority that had never come naturally to him, “We are on a mission!”

“Can’t! Too much snow!” Pips did a backflip and dove into a small white hill. He popped back out of it, shaking off the excess from his clothing. “Look what you can do with this stuff!” He molded the fistful of snow he held, then proudly showed it to Cornelius.

“That’s just a snowball,” he replied, silently noting how small it was, “Children make those all the time. Now can we please get back to our search?”

Pips stuck his tongue out in retaliation and Cornelius shook his head, unwilling to start a fruitless argument on the merits of snow use. He squared his shoulders and kept flying right until an icy blast hit the back of his neck.

With a violent shudder, he frantically rubbed the snow from his nape and turned to see Pips whistling with feigned innocence.

“What was that for?” he cried, and was met with a shrug.

Before Pips could amass another handful of snow, Cornelius swiped some off a passing branch and molded it into a ball in a few short seconds. He had spent years perfecting his snowball technique from playing with the children of courtiers, and threw it with expert precision right at Pips’s face.

The snowball hit its target before Pips could react, and Cornelius doubled over with laughter at his friend’s indignant sputters and frantic attempts to wipe the snow from his eyes.

“You realize this means war,” Pips said calmly. 

He flew to the ground where ammunition was plentiful; Cornelius slid off Buzzby’s back and followed suit. They both grabbed fistfuls of snow and began their assault. There was no quarter given as the two fairies pelted each other until their thick coats were damp and their faces red. Pips had just sprung up from another sweep across the ground and had two snowballs ready in each hand. But just as he pulled his arms back to throw, Cornelius knocked him out of the air by grabbing him round the waist.

They tumbled into the snow bank in a tangle of wings and furs and still the battle continued as they wrestled each other, laughing all the while. Cornelius kicked Pips in the shins and seized the opportunity to push them both into open air. He pinned his foe to the ground and smiled in triumph, his heavy breathing coming out in small clouds past his lips.

Pips was grinning just as hard even though he’d lost the match. Their misted breaths mingled together from the proximity of their faces. Cornelius slowly sunk into his gaze, all thoughts of wrestling forgotten as he lost himself in the eyes he tried so hard not to think about at night. As he trailed down, he was snapped out of his reverie. A ring of blue flowers arched across Pips’s chin like a sad frown. His necklace had fallen out of his collar and dangled beneath him.

Pips’s smile slowly fell. “What’s wrong?”

He scurried away without a word, clutching the necklace tightly. Pips sat upright and tried to reach out, but Cornelius flinched from his touch.

“How could I get so distracted?” he whispered.

“What?”

Guilt gnawed at his bones, reaching deeper into him than the cold ever could. Even as the wind loudly picked up with the threat of an oncoming snowstorm, Cornelius felt nothing but white-hot pain of his own making.

“I shouldn’t be getting into snowball fights! Thumbelina is still out there!” he gestured wildly at the endless snowy hills. “She’s lost in the cold, all alone! And here I am, playing around like a child—”

“Hey, it’s alright. We can get back on track—”

“I should have found her long before winter came!” he continued, pacing back and forth as he wrung his hands, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I shouldn’t have let myself get so lost because of… you.” He stopped to look at Pips with a creeping realization. “You’ve been distracting me.”

Pips bristled. “What are you talking about? I’ve been helping you!”

“You keep talking and talking and you always want to stop and look at things! And now you’ve got me all caught up in some stupid snowball fight! I would’ve found Thumbelina long ago if it wasn’t for you!”

“You also would’ve been smashed to a pulp by a toad before your quest even began if it wasn’t for me,” Pips angrily shot back.

Cornelius thrust his necklace out. “She gave me these forget-me-nots. But every day, I forget more of her face! How could I do that to the woman I love? All I can see now is your face! All I see when I fall asleep are your eyes and I don’t understand why!”

Pips was stunned by his admission. His mouth opened in surprise, but he had no reply to give. In a calmer state, Cornelius would have blushed at what he’d just confessed, but he was cracked open by his own disgrace and didn’t care anymore that everything was seeping out.

“I’m going to find her,” he vowed.

Buzzby had been anxiously circling around them during their argument, and immediately stilled in the air when Cornelius flew up to him.

“Where are you going?” Pips cried, “The wind is getting worse! You can’t fly in this!”

The wind had indeed grown more violent; Buzzby was having trouble keeping steady and Cornelius had to grab onto one of his legs before he could properly mount. The snowfall was blowing right into his face, half-blinding him to the trees ahead.

Pips, who had flown beside him, was also struggling against the blizzard and threw an arm up to shield his eyes. “It’s too dangerous! You’ll be no good to Thumbelina in this weather!”

Cornelius ignored him and urged his bumble to fly. Pips’s protests were lost to the noisy wind as he maneuvered against the current. Buzzby wobbled dangerously, but kept going as his master wished.

There was nothing ahead but a flurry of white hiding the dark, indistinct shapes of trees and rocks and other obstacles in the distance. Cornelius squinted against the storm though it did no good. He called for Thumbelina, yet he could barely hear his own voice. Stubbornness was the only thing driving him through the madness.

A particularly strong windblast knocked Buzzby askew, and Cornelius along with him. He spun out of the sky, the white world rolling around him in a dizzying display. There wasn’t even time to cry out before he fell into ice-sharp water. 

It felt like a thousand knives were stabbing every inch of his skin. Cornelius heaved his arms, but the weight of his fur coat pulled them down. He frantically looked up at the light from the surface and kicked his legs with all his might, the sound of his pulse like a thunderous drum in his ears. 

Every movement was an excruciating effort as the water slowly hardened around him. The delay of winter was throwing the season into unnaturally quick transformations, and the pond was turning to ice in mere seconds. Cornelius reached for the light, but his efforts were in vain as every muscle became paralyzed, stuck in a frozen prison. The world went completely still and so did he.

  


* * *

  


Pips watched in horror as Cornelius plummeted from the sky into the pond. He pushed furiously against the wind trying to beat him back and dove in after him. Instead of falling into the icy water, he hit solid ground and slid painfully on his knees. 

“What the—?” he peered at his reflection, and saw that his leg was crushing something. It was Cornelius’s necklace of forget-me-nots, with all of its petals blown away. Heart sinking in dread, he hurriedly pulled it out and shoved it into his pocket.

Cornelius was somewhere below the hard, cold floor; he could see his foggy, immobile shape reaching up for the surface, though only his finger had breached the water before getting trapped. 

“No no no no, you _idiot_!” Pips curled his fists and slammed the ice repeatedly. Harder and harder he pounded until his knuckles ached, but it was too thick to crack under his assault. He looked around desperately for something sharp or heavy, but all that surrounded him was snow.

“It can’t end like this! Not like this! You’re supposed to get your happy ending!”

He couldn’t bear to look into Cornelius’s wide, frozen eyes. All he saw in them was their ultimate failure after so many near misses. Was this how their story ended? Was it his fault for tampering with fate?

The cold had left Pips’s skin and had instead sunken deep into his heart, gripping it with a terror he had hoped never to feel again after Ferngully’s near demise.

“Don’t do this to me!” he cried brokenly.

He pressed his forehead to the ice, fighting against the despair that threatened to submerge him. That was when he heard the sound of raspy voices in the distance. Pips looked around for the source; the wind was dwindling down to a weak breeze, allowing him to make out a small group approaching. As they grew clearer in the winter haze, he immediately recognized the one striding ahead of the others.

“—never make a deal with a toad. What was I thinking? And he took my wings! Now how am I supposed to find a fairy without wings?”

It was the horrible beetle they’d met in the caverns. Pips cast a panicked glance at Cornelius. In a split second, he made his decision and flew away to hide behind a snowy hill. He wouldn’t be able to take on a gang of beetles by himself; with any luck, they would pass by without noticing Cornelius below the ice.

But as they skittered in a tangle of limbs across the pond’s surface, he realized that they were peering in every direction, including underneath their feet. It wasn’t long until one of them called to their leader.

“Hey, this guy’s the prince!”

Pips cursed every snowflake in the area; trust these bug-eyed bastards to stumble upon Cornelius in this very spot. 

The unpleasant Mr. Beetle slid to a halt right on top of him and cried in triumph. “Ah! The prince! Somebody up there loves me! Okay, pick him up! Let’s get him out of here before we’re statistics!”

The henchmen stuck the points of their shoes into the ice and cut out a square around their happily ranting boss. They carefully pulled up a frozen cube containing Cornelius, with Mr. Beetle dancing atop it without a care in the world.

“Come on boys, pick up the pace! We’ve got an appointment with the toad and I’d rather not get my feelers torn off next!”

The gang pushed the cube across the ice and into the snow bank, off to an unknown destination. Pips was sweating inside his winter gear; dread was an uncomfortable warmer. So tense was he that he nearly jumped out of his skin when something buzzed right behind him.

“Buzzby!” he exclaimed when he turned around, “Are you alright?”

The bumblebee was shivering violently, but responded with what Pips interpreted as a yes.

“Look, Cornelius is in trouble. I’m going to figure out a way to save him. Can you go get help? Maybe find other fairies? It’ll take more than the two of us to fight a group of beetles.”

Buzzby chirped and took off at a slower pace than usual, though Pips was certain he was no less determined. Now he would follow the beetles from a distance and try to form a plan along the way. As he slipped out of his hiding spot and flew behind another hill, watching and waiting for his target to move ahead for a few paces, he tried not to think of the crack in his own heart. He hadn’t realized it had grown so fragile.


	7. Chapter 7

Thumbelina had lost count of the days. She had encountered more animals than there had ever been on her farm, each of them treating her with varying degrees of hostility. She would have asked Jacquimo to fly her high until she could see her house, but he had disappeared by the time she’d woken up, off to find this fabled Vale of the Fairies.

All she wanted was to return home to her mother; her dreams of exploring the wider world had been thoroughly quenched. There was no adventure to be had when one was lost without a way home or any supplies to ease the journey. She had a thin cloak given to her by one of the friendlier animals she had met, and had kept it wrapped tightly around herself to fight the cold. But the arrival of winter was too strong and the meager cloak was no longer enough. In the quest for decent shelter, she had found an old shoe abandoned by one of the big folk with a ragged sock lying within it. She crawled into its musty folds and curled into a fitful sleep.

When she awoke to pleasant warmth, Thumbelina first thought that she was home again, and that all of this had been a bad dream. But as she crawled out from her bedding, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. A chatty creature called Ms. Fieldmouse had managed to carry her underground despite being half Thumbelina’s size. She accepted the hot mug of tea she was given and nearly dropped it as it burned her palms.

“I almost forgot what it feels like to be warm,” she said.

Ms. Fieldmouse chuckled as she shoved a large turnip into a cauldron that looked too small to contain it. “You’re lucky I found you when I did! How would you have survived winter in that old boot?”

“I just want to go home,” Thumbelina said tiredly, “I should have asked my friend Jacquimo to fly me in the air so I could find my house, but he left before I woke up.”

“Jacquimo, that talkative swallow? Yes, he’s been flying around trying to find the Vale of the Fairies.”

“How did you know?”

Ms. Fieldmouse waved her wooden spoon around, sending drops of stew flying. “Honey, I always keep one ear to the ground for gossip. He’s been asking everyone in the forest about the place! My upstairs neighbour Mrs. Squirrel told me she saw him even approaching foxes for information. Foxes! Why anyone would want to go near those sly devils is beyond me.”

She put her hand on her hip and grinned. “And I also hear he’s looking for a certain fairy prince you were engaged to. Cornelius, was it?”

Thumbelina blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought of Cornelius in days. Her longings had been for her home and her mother, for the vibrant but familiar life among the farm animals.

She looked down at the ring he had given her as a symbol of his promise never to forget her. It still gleamed brilliantly despite the rough wanderings she’d endured thus far. She closed her eyes and recalled their one night together; it felt like it had happened in a different life, or some faraway dream. But dreams didn’t stave off hunger nor keep one warm from the winter frost.

“It is so sad,” lamented Ms. Fieldmouse.

“What is?”

“That the prince was found stone cold dead in the snow.” She whacked the turnip for emphasis. “But of course you knew that.”

The mug slipped from Thumbelina’s hands and crashed to the floor. She covered her face and collapsed on the bed, struggling to breathe through the shock.

“No, it can’t be true!” she sobbed as Ms. Fieldmouse hurried to her side. She clung desperately to the memory of his face; she’d had so little time to admire him. So little time to get to know him.

“Oh Thumbelina, forgive me,” Ms. Fieldmouse said, gently patting her hair, “Sometimes I just blurt things without thinking! You’re still young though, there’ll be another.”

Thumbelina shook her head, still weeping. “He was perfect!”

Ms. Fieldmouse scoffed. “Nobody’s perfect, dear. If you think he was perfect, then either he was very good at hiding his flaws or you didn’t spend that much time with him.”

Thumbelina hiccupped and quickly wiped her eyes. The truth in her host’s words were like a dagger in her heart, and too painful to bear. She clung to her feelings from the night they met, how strong and overwhelming they had been. They were real; shaken and bruised, but real.

“He was the only one—The only one who was my size.”

“Is that all it takes? He’s not the only fairy out there. If your swallow friend finds the Vale, you’ll have a whole court of fairies to pick from.”

An entire fairy court could do nothing to dispel the guilt that was wrenching her in two. “Cornelius must have been looking for me,” she said.

Ms. Fieldmouse patted her shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself. It was foolish of him to venture out in this weather. Now come on,” she pulled Thumbelina to her feet, “Why don’t we get your mind off of things, hm? I have some errands to run and some friends to visit. You can come with me.”

Weeks of exhaustion settled on Thumbelina’s shoulders and she didn’t have the strength to protest. She absently rubbed her ring, unsure of what was in her heart. Cornelius was gone; she had lost her chance at the happy endings that peppered all of the stories her mother read to her at night. The prospect of home was impossible while winter still reigned. She had nowhere else to go.

“Well?” Ms. Fieldmouse held out a basket of corn cakes to her.

She silently took it. What was one more day of heartache after all the ones that had passed?

  


* * *

  


The beetles pushed their frozen prisoner across the hills for an entire day. Pips followed them from a safe distance and carefully hid himself whenever they slowed down. Mr. Beetle remained on top of the ice cube for the entire trek, incessantly bragging about getting his wings back for this prize.

They stopped underneath the hollow of a tree just after sunset. The minions barely had time to catch their breath before Mr. Beetle sent them away; he had a meeting with the toad he’d been blathering about for hours and he preferred to conduct business alone.

Pips watched from the hill above as the beetles scattered, eager to disappear before the toad’s arrival. He would have a chance against the scrawny bastard currently twirling his moustache atop the ice cube now that he was alone. One swift tackle into the snow was all it would take.

Before he could make a move, a large figure lumbered out of the darkness. It was a toad, looking just as hideous and ridiculously dressed as the one he had met on his first day in this book.

Pips leaned over the ledge to better hear their conversation. The toad grumbled something too low for him to make out, while Mr. Beetle’s voice rang out like a shrill bird.

“Listen, who cares if he’s alive or dead! I got him for you, didn’t I? Besides, I’ve got some information you’ll love in exchange for my wings.”

The toad grunted and tapped his foot impatiently.

“My sources tell me that Thumbelina is underground right now with the mole.”

Pips’s heart skipped a beat. This was the first piece of information he’d heard about her in weeks. He dared to lean a little further from the ledge.

“If I were you, I’d get my tail over there and save her,” Mr. Beetle continued, “Go, get hopping. Oh, and would you give me my wings please?”

“Where does mole live? I go kick down his door,” said the toad loud enough for Pips to hear.

He pushed the beetle forward and didn’t flinch when this was met with resistance. “We go rescue Thumbelina from the mole.”

Mr. Beetle squawked and tried to wrench his arm free. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going down there! Do you have any idea what he does to beetles? He stuffs them. He stuffs them and he pins them on his walls!”

He tugged on the toad’s hold but it was like trying to pull a twig out from a wolf’s jaws. The toad grabbed his leg instead, unceremoniously throwing him to the ground, and dragged him across the snow. The beetle’s protests went ignored and he dissolved into incoherent babbling while the toad pulled him along as if he weighed no more than a feather.

Pips couldn’t believe his one drop of luck in the sea of misfortune that had been this entire day. They had left Cornelius unattended. Now the trick was to find a way to break him from his prison.

He heard Buzzby’s frantic chirping before he saw him land from above. Laughing with relief, Pips turned to praise him for finding help just in time, but it died on his lips when he saw who the bumblebee had brought with him.

“What are you doing here?”

The annoying jitterbug children frantically waved at him from their saddle perch and he gave Buzzby an exasperated look.

“I told you to go find help,” he hissed.

“We _are_ here to help!” cried Gnatty.

“ _You_ are kids and it’s too dangerous for you to—how did Buzzby even find you?”

“We’ve been looking for you,” said Li’l Bee, “We left our home tree a few days ago! That’s when we saw him flying around.”

Pips ran a hand across his face, doing his level best to keep his temper in check. “Did your parents let you go off on your own or did you sneak out and I’m now responsible for your little behinds?”

“We snuck out,” Gnatty said sheepishly.

That was the answer he was afraid of. When the children jumped off Buzzby’s back, he gestured madly for them to get back on but they scurried around him.

“The fairy prince is trapped! We’ve got to help him!” said Baby Bug.

“Come on guys, let’s build a fire!” Li’l Bee ordered.

Pips frowned. “You know how to make fire?”

“Of course! We make them all the time when we’re camping.”

No one in FernGully had ever learned to make fire; its destructive force was the complete opposite of their creation magic. Hexxus had rained it down with his poison, and the humans had learned how to make it long ago, but fairies had no use for it. It ravaged the rainforest sometimes, and when it did, they had always fled from its deadly flames.

“Maybe you brought the right people after all,” he told Buzzby.

The children told him to look for dry sticks, which was easier said than done. Everything was dampened by snow or frozen in a layer of ice. Pips flew into the trees to find bits of branches that could have avoided the worst of the frost.

He returned with meager findings, and saw that the children hadn’t fared much better. He watched as they arranged the wood into a pile underneath the ice cube. Gnatty knelt down and rubbed two sticks together until a small spark ignited. The children huddled around the nascent flame and blew on it to spread it around Pips’s eyes widened as it grew into a small fire.

“It’s not very big,” remarked Baby Bug.

The bottom of the ice cube began to drip very slowly. The fire was weak, and would take too long to melt it down. Pips would have to help things along. He floated in front of Cornelius, whose frightened face was blurred behind the shining surface of his prison. He placed his hands on the ice wall and concentrated, drawing forth the magic from deep within his core. The children gasped as he glowed an intense green, like a firefly at night. He was going to warm the ice cube the way he had warmed Cornelius on that first day of cool autumn.

“Hang in there,” he said breathlessly. It was difficult to maintain this level of energy, but he grit his teeth and kept going.

“The ice is melting faster!” Gnatty said happily.

The wall beneath Pips’s palms gradually melted away until he was almost pushing through it. Great droplets of water rolled down his fingers as he worked with the fire to dissolve the ice as quickly as possible.

His face was nearly pressed against the wall as if his gaze could burn through it and awaken Cornelius. “You better get through this,” he said desperately, “I didn’t tag along all this time just to lose you now.”

“Does he know Mr. Mole’s gonna marry Thumbelina?” Baby Bug asked.

“He will when we get him out of here.”

The children climbed on top of the ice cube before Pips could stop them, and one by one they slipped across it. They would have collided into him had they not grabbed hold of Cornelius’s finger that stuck out of the ice.

Li’l Bee gasped. “Look! He’s waking up!”

The finger they clung to twitched and wiggled back and forth. Pips turned to look at his frozen face with renewed hope.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” he said, “We’ve almost got you out, just hang in there!”

He redoubled his efforts, summoning every last ounce of energy he had and directing it through his hands. Several minutes went by, which stretched into agonizing hours in Pips’s mind. His hands, drenched from the melting water, had gone numb from frozen contact. He ignored his discomfort and kept going.

Finally, the ice melted around Cornelius’s head inch by inch. His wet hair emerged first, dripping into eyes that could finally blink. When his mouth was free from its prison, he gasped like he was drowning.

“Easy, I’ve got you!” Pips reached out and cupped his face, nearly laughing in relief. “Cornelius, look at me!”

The jitterbugs cheered and jumped off the rapidly dissolving ice cube. They noted that the tips of Cornelius’s boots were slowly emerging from their prison. Pips continued to work his magic until the prince was completely freed, and caught him when he slumped forward.

His entire body was frozen to the touch, and Pips gently lowered him right next to the fire. Cornelius’s fists gripped the fur of his coat, refusing to let go. He curled into a ball, trembling like a leaf.

“We need more firewood!” Pips told the children, “Go! I’ll take care of him.”

They scattered to do as he ordered. The two fairies were left alone with Buzzby, who was hovering anxiously near his master. Pips beckoned him closer so they could huddle into his fuzz for warmth.

“C-clothes,” Cornelius said through violently chattering teeth, “Wet. C-c-cold.”

Pips immediately went to work, divesting his friend of his drenched clothing. He tugged everything off until Cornelius was in nothing but his knee-length underclothes.

With that task completed, Pips removed his own clothes which had become wet from the melted ice. The freezing air was offset by the fire next to them, and he was once again in his preferred state of undress. He held Cornelius close, hissing at the painful cold of his body, and pulled out one of the blankets from Buzzby’s pack to wrap around them.

Cornelius burrowed into him until they were skin to skin, desperately seeking the heat that Pips was still exuding from his magic. His glow was had dulled to a weak shine, but he stubbornly kept it lit around their entwined bodies.

“I thought I’d lost—” he began, but stopped when Cornelius looked at him through half-lidded eyes. His lips were blue and shivering; Pips gently ran his thumb across them. The contact sent a tingle down his hand. “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”

Cornelius was looking at him strangely. “I s-saw you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was t-trapped. I couldn’t… couldn’t move. So s-s-cared. And then… I saw you… your green eyes… you n-never left me until the ice melted.” Cornelius sucked in a deep breath. “I f-f-focused on your eyes… They k-k-kept me going when I thought I was going to be t-trapped forever. I could tell… you were… talking to me. You gave me… courage.”

Pips swallowed the lump in his throat. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have distracted you with a stupid snow fight.”

“No… I shouldn’t have f-flown in this weather... I was foolish.”

“Guess we’re both stuck saving each other’s behinds, huh?” Pips said with a weak laugh.

Cornelius struggled to sit upright, the blanket falling off his shoulders. Pips saw his body for the first time, bare and golden under his magic glow, beautiful as the morning sun.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured hazily. His fingers ran across Pips’s chest, coming to rest on either side of his neck. “I don’t know know how… I would’ve gotten this far without you.”

Acting on pure instinct, Pips pulled him close until they were nose to nose. He took pleasure in the way their bodies tangled together, and hungrily sought more.

“Why have you stayed with me?” Cornelius asked.

Pips hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Is it… only because you think I can help you get home?”

The truth would not come to him, because Pips didn’t understand himself anymore. He had thought of home often, of Crysta and the Beetle Boys, of the fragile sprouts they had sowed around Ferngully. But he hadn’t thought of how to get back in a while. Little by little, his heart had been set on helping Cornelius earn his happy ending for its own sake.

He remembered the defeat in the prince’s eyes after their failed encounter at the beetles’ tree, and the ache that had settled in his chest at the sight. That was the first time he had longed to soothe him with gentle touches.

“You believe in your love so honestly,” he said, “And you’ve pushed yourself towards the impossible. I admire that.”

Cornelius laughed bitterly. “And look where it got me.”

“Hey. Look at me,” Pips said. He lifted Cornelius’s chin and held it steady so that their eyes met. “I wish I could be as dedicated as you. I’m a guy who’d rather nap in the trees and eat berries than put this much effort into something. I’ve never really had anything to work towards.”

“And I wish I had your confidence,” Cornelius replied, “I’ve never been good at speeches, but you always talk so smoothly, even to our enemies. You would probably walk into my royal court with nothing but your petal skirt on and not care at all the stares you’d get.”

“You know me so well.”

The prince’s eyes flickered; his shivering had lessened but he pressed even closer to Pips, searching for something in his gaze that Pips wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal.

“I’m glad I let you come with me,” he murmured.

Pips moved closer without thinking. “Me too.”

They were barely a whisper apart, their breaths ghosting upon each other’s mouths in a prelude to unspoken want. Cornelius closed his eyes, waiting for that first press of lips, and Pips was right over the edge of falling. He caught himself before that could happen.

“Thumbelina is alive,” he said shakily.

Cornelius pulled away. “What?”

“When I followed the beetle here after he took you out of the ice, he met with a toad. He said she’s underground somewhere, getting ready to marry a mole.”

Cornelius shifted out of his arms with a frown and Pips felt his heart crack. This had never been his story to tell. Cornelius was meant to find Thumbelina and live happily ever after. He needed to see this through for both their sakes. In the end, none of this was real.

“I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.” He fished the necklace he had rescued out of his pocket and held it out.

Cornelius plucked it from his hand and gazed at it for a long, silent moment. The forget-me-nots had blown away, leaving a plain, reedy garland that was fraying along the edges.

“Thank you for saving this, but… I don’t think I need it anymore.” He opened his fingers and let it slide away into the snow. Pips hadn’t expected the gesture. He wanted to say something more, but was cut off by the jitterbugs’ return.

“We couldn’t find a lot of firewood, but we got a few sticks!” Gnatty pointed to the handful Lil’ Bee was holding.

“Are you hugging?” Baby Bug asked. She was staring at their cocooned embrace with her head tilted. Pips blustered and tried to say something to the effect of practical heat sharing, but Cornelius saved him the trouble by throwing the blanket off and reaching for his still-damp clothes.

“We need to get underground right away! We can’t let Thumbelina marry the mole!”

“That’s right, the beetle told the toad that’s where she was!” Li’l Bee confirmed, “We were gonna tell you when you woke up.”

“I filled him in,” Pips said, puffing up his chest.

“Yeah, but we know where the mole lives,” Gnatty said smugly, “My dad once took me there to sell him a scarf.”

“Then you can show us how to get there?” Cornelius asked. The children nodded, each of them clamouring to lead the way. The shiver in his body now replaced by newfound conviction, Cornelius pulled his fur coat up, but immediately dropped it when he felt the dampness still clinging to it.

“Forget those,” said Pips, “I don’t have enough energy to dry them. But I can help with your regular clothes. We’ll be warm underground anyway, right?”

He touched Cornelius’s silk tunic and focused his remaining magic upon it. His breathing was laboured from the effort, but he pressed on, willing the last remnants of moisture to evaporate.

A hand slid on top of his and he nearly faltered from his focus. Cornelius gave him a grateful smile and kept his gentle hold; Pips redoubled his efforts with alacrity.

Once Cornelius was dressed, they flew away into the silent, cold air at high speed. Perhaps not the most cautious speed to fly in during winter, but time was of the essence.

The children led them to the base of an old tree with its roots sticking out haphazardly from the ground. Into a wide opening they went, and were plunged into immediate darkness inside the hollow base. Pips’s weak green glow was the only light by which they could see.

“There’s a tunnel that goes underground here!” Gnatty pointed to a deep chasm right below where they hovered.

Pips landed on his hands and knees and peered over the edge; there was no telling how far it went. His glow was nowhere near powerful enough to light the way further than a few feet.

“We need to hurry. Buzzby, you stay up here,” Cornelius ordered, “Look after the jitterbugs!”

“No way! We’re coming too!” cried Li’l Bee.

“It’s too dangerous!”

The children began to protest in a cacophony that bounced off the walls of the tree trunk and was enough to give Pips a headache.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Shut up and get over here!” He grabbed Gnatty and Baby Bug, tucked them under his arms, and jumped into the tunnel without a word of warning. Down the dark they tumbled, both children screaming in his ears until he was able to properly adjust his speed. He let the little ones go and looked up to see Cornelius and Li’l Bee following close behind.

“Warn us next time!” Cornelius admonished, but all he got was a scoff in return.

“Whatever. I got us moving, didn’t I?”

They continued down the tunnel, which didn’t result in as long a drop as expected; soon it veered sharply upwards and when they shot out of it, they found themselves in a dimly lit cavern. They followed the long earthy walkway below, past rows upon rows of insects pinned to the walls in a gruesome display.

Pips focused on the light ahead, fighting down a wave of nausea. He had spent most of his efforts on saving Cornelius, and fatigue was setting in. His magical glow flickered and he nearly stumbled out of the sky.

A warm hand slipped into his and gripped tightly. Cornelius was right beside him, lending him strength.

“Stay with me,” he said.

It was encouragement enough for Pips. He squeezed back and pressed onward.

The bright tunnel revealed itself to be very narrow the closer they got, and as they all tried to squeeze into the opening first, they crashed into each other and tumbled to the ground, rolling into one large heap with Pips buried underneath the jitterbugs.

He groaned with the pain of a thousand aches while they bounced on top of him.

“You broke our fall!” Baby Bug squealed.

“Good for you, now get off.”

Cornelius had landed beside them and was the first to recover as someone screamed. He looked over the edge of the cliff they were perched upon and gasped.

“Thumbelina!”

Pips immediately rolled off his back to finally catch a glimpse of this elusive girl. Below them was another narrow bridge, flanked on either side by an endless drop. Crossing it was a woman dressed in one of the many ridiculous outfits that permeated this entire story. She was running as fast as her skirts would let her, barely casting a glance at the mob of creatures that chased her down. They all clamored for her to come back, but she wisely stayed away from the mad horde.

“I marry her!” roared one voice above all the others. A large toad shoved his way to the front, nearly throwing a few animals into the abyss.

“That’s him,” Pips said urgently, “That’s the toad I saw.”

Cornelius clenched his jaw and pounced from the ledge, landing right in front of his long-awaited foe. Pips followed right behind him, and together they caused an immense stir among the wedding guests.

“Streakers!” shrieked a tall grasshopper, clutching her face in horror, “Oh, the indecency!”

“Oh come _on!”_ Pips said, angrily adjusting his skirt, “I’m covering the important bits!”

Cornelius pulled out his rapier and swung it in a series of impressive twirls. “We meet at last, Mr. Toad!”

Said toad had no appreciation for his dramatic flair and puffed up his throat. “Fairy prince! No!” He rounded on his beetle companion. “You killed him!”

“Yet here I am, standing before you!” Cornelius declared, pointing his sword right at his enemies while Pips tried hard not to cringe at his theatrics, “Now come on! Show me what you’ve got!”

He lunged for the toad, who swiped a torch out of the mole’s hand and deftly blocked his attack. As they circled around each other, Mr. Beetle inched away from the ensuing brawl and tried to make a run for it, but Pips stuck his foot out and tripped him over the stone floor.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed.

Mr. Beetle scrambled to his gangly feet. “You again, bub! I’ll rip your pretty wings right off your back and use them for myself!”

He threw himself on Pips, but his body was no more than a brightly coloured twig that could be snapped in half by any fit fairy. Pips flipped him over with little effort, pinning him down with a knee pressed to his chest.

“Get off! Off!” Mr. Beetle wheezed as Pips dropped his full weight on him.

“How are you doing?” he called to Cornelius.

The fairy prince was swiping at the toad, whose size did not impede his agility. He evaded every swing and retaliated by hitting him over the head with the side of his torch. Cornelius keeled over and the toad laughed, pulling the rapier out of his hand and tossing it over the bridge.

“No!” Pips cried, leaping off the beetle and rushing to his friend’s aid. He made to attack, but the toad vanished from his reach as he fell face first. Cornelius had grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. The toad kicked him with his free leg, dislodging himself from Cornelius’s hold and slipping over the edge of the bridge in the process. He grabbed the prince’s arms before he could fall.

“Let go!” Cornelius snarled, scratching at the slimy hands wrapped around his tunic.

Before Pips could help, a bony arm looped around his throat. He was taken by complete surprise and choked as the Beetle cackled in his ear.

“Who’s got the upper hand now, pal?”

“Pips!” Cornelius cried. In his distraction, the toad took hold of his face and yanked him off the edge, sending them both falling into darkness. Pips could only call out his name in horror as the golden sparkles from Cornelius’s wings vanished. In desperation, he sunk his teeth into the beetle’s bony arm, freeing his windpipe to breathe as the other howled in pain. He turned around and punched the vile creature squarely in the jaw.

With his enemy now unconscious, he immediately dove into the abyss. Any exhaustion was banished as he flew faster than he had ever done in his life, until he reached the wriggling pair below.

“Cornelius! Grab on!” He flung his arm out, clenching his teeth against the agonizing strain in his legs as his magical glow spent itself.

Cornelius reached up, his fingers missing Pips’s for a few tense seconds before he finally took firm hold. But the toad was still gripping his middle, growling at the two of them.

Pips pulled him up until Cornelius had his arms wrapped around his neck. He had slowed their fall, but they were too heavy to remain steady in the air. The toad rumbled another threat, struggling to climb up Cornelius’s body.

As he snapped his gaping jaw at them, tongue unfurling, Cornelius reached down and took hold of his moustache. Then he ripped it off.

The toad screamed and released his captives to clutch his face. This was his great mistake, and he fell alone into the darkness while they remained hovering in the air. His low cry faded into silence.

“Good job,” Pips said, impressed.

Cornelius chuckled. “I learned that trick from you.”

With the rush of adrenaline now gone, Pip’s body gave out. He would have dropped out of the air had Cornelius’s arms not kept him aloft.

“I’ve got you!” the prince said. Pips slumped against him gratefully as he was flown back up into the light. Once they had reached the bridge, Cornelius gently laid him on the ground, and collapsed on top of him.

The wedding guests gasped at their return and crowded around them, murmuring to each other. Neither of the fairies took notice; they were forehead to forehead and breathing heavily, desperate for a moment of rest.

“Are you alright?” Cornelius asked, clutching Pips’s face.

“Yeah,” was all Pips could manage to say. His entire body was tingling, and hyper-aware of a pair of legs tangled against his own. For one brief moment, he looked into Cornelius’s eyes and felt like he could sing out his joy past the exhaustion. But a moment was all it was, like a brilliant flash of lightning that disappeared just as instantly as it had come.

“Guys! Thumbelina went that way!” Gnatty cried, breaking the spell.

Cornelius looked at him uncertainly, and Pips felt his heart quiver.

“Go get your girl,” he murmured, “I’ll stay here and keep these guys from following you.”

Cornelius sat up and pulled Pips along with him. “Come with me,” he pleaded, but Pips shook his head. His intrusion in this story had played to its end; he didn’t think he could bear watching Cornelius in the arms of another. His heart had changed.

“I don’t think I can fly right now. Just go. Hurry!”

Cornelius hesitated, so Pips indulged in one last soft brush of knuckles against his cheek. “Go,” he repeated.

With one final, searing look, the fairy prince flew down the tunnel Thumbelina had gone through. Pips struggled to his feet and faced the dumbstruck crowd.

“Show’s over, folks! This wedding’s been canceled,” he tried to say with authority, but ended up sounding winded instead. He hadn’t properly caught his breath yet.

“How dare you!” sputtered the rotund mole, hastily re-adjusting his spectacles, “Now see here, my dear underdressed fellow, I intended to marry today. The bachelor lifestyle has been weighing upon me, and I was all set to gain a delightful companion!”

“Poor Mr. Mole was looking forward to this! And I wore my best dress and everything!” said a lady mouse with yellow hair, “What is he supposed to do now?”

Pips waved his hand in annoyance. “I don’t know, why don’t _you_ marry him, then?”

The mouse and the mole looked at each other. Pips really didn’t want to witness them slowly warming up to his throwaway idea, but was spared the scene when the floor suddenly cracked beneath their feet.

The guests screamed and scrambled back as it deepened, making the entire cavern tremble. Pips jumped into the air and the jitterbugs crowded behind him in fright. The fissure widened, revealing a blinding white light from within.

He felt a familiar warm air seep out of it, wrapping around his body like a comforting blanket. Next came the scent of wet leaves and bark, and the mingled cries of animals he knew well, so very unlike the painted creatures currently cowering from the crevice.

“FernGully,” he breathed.

This was the end of the story. He had helped Cornelius reach his happy ending; there was no more path to follow. He turned to the jitterbugs and gave them a half smile.

“It’s alright. This is for me.” He swallowed past the emotions fighting to rise out of him. “I have to go now.”

“Go where?” Gnatty asked, wide-eyed.

Pips looked over the children’s shoulders to the tunnel Cornelius had disappeared into. He ached to say farewell, to award himself one last look upon his face before he became nothing more than a dream. But Pips knew enough about magic to know that it wouldn’t wait around. He would have to live with this final regret.

“Tell Cornelius… tell him I found my way home.”

He turned away from the children, taking slow and steady steps towards the fissure. FernGully pulled at all of his senses, reminding him in nature’s language where he truly belonged. He had been foolish to let this place change his heart, not when he had a real home to return to. That was what he would tell himself until it no longer hurt.

He closed his eyes and fell into the light.

  


* * *

  


When Cornelius finally dug his way out of the tunnel, he was met by weak sunlight. He shook the snow from his wings and looked around, but there was no living being in sight. Then, a melodic voice sounded from above. He looked up and saw Thumbelina’s long tresses flying in the wind as she rode upon the back of a singing bird. They were headed to a place he knew very well.

He followed them through the trees, and sure enough they had arrived at the Vale. The place was empty, devoid of the flower field that graced the kingdom during the other seasons. The court was hiding in the shelter of the trees, ready to emerge with spring’s return.

Thumbelina stood upon a snow-covered branch, singing morosely to the dead winter around her. Her strange bird friend hovered anxiously next to her.

Cornelius called out her name as he flew over. When she saw him, her hands clapped to her mouth.

“Cornelius! You’re alive!”

She dashed towards him and he met her halfway, pulling her into his arms. Weeks of anxiety melted into relief as he hugged her tightly.

“Are you alright?” he asked when he pulled away.

She nodded eagerly; her hair was a mess and her dress in tatters, but he saw no real harm done upon her. As the joy of their reunion settled, Cornelius’s heart went strangely still at the sight of her. The longer they looked at each other, the more their smiles faded. It felt like he was meeting someone from long ago.

“It’s been a while,” he joked weakly.

“Yes,” she said, twisting her fingers, “A lot has happened.”

He saw in her the same uncertainty that troubled him. They had spent more time apart searching for each other than they ever had together, and that separation weighed heavily in the air between them.

“Everyone has been telling me what to do and who to marry,” Thumbelina said, “I just feel so tired. I was hoping you would find me, but… I don’t know if I still want what you want.”

The infatuation of their night together was long gone. Cornelius looked at her now, shining like a diamond in the sunlight, yet no more than a faded mark upon his heart. He tried to remember his early love, and how brightly it had burned. But something else had wormed his way into his affections, slowly replacing the magic of their meeting. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to be sad.

“I want you to be happy,” he said sincerely.

Her smile was tremulous, but true. “I don’t know what will make me happy yet. But going home would be a good start.”

“What is this?” the bird hopped between them, looking positively horrified. “You have followed your hearts and they have led you back to each other! Why do you not declare your eternal love?”

“Jacquimo, please,” Thumbelina said in irritation. Cornelius sensed this wasn’t the first time he had brought this up to her.

“What does your heart tell you?” he insisted.

“That we were maybe a little too hasty,” Cornelius replied, “Feelings can change.”

Jacquimo stumbled back, clutching his heart as if he’d just been stabbed. Cornelius watched him warily as he slumped against the tree with a wing to his forehead.

Thumbelina paid him no mind. She gently pulled off the ring he’d given her and placed it in his palm. “I’m sorry,” she said with such sadness that it pained him.

“Don’t be. Look at me, Thumbelina.” He pressed his hand to her cheek. “Our love was brief, but it was real. I know it was. We just didn’t have the opportunity to nurture it into something stronger.”

“I think you’re right. If things had turned out differently... Oh, but I don’t want us to part forever! Maybe… maybe you could still take me to visit the fairy court?” she said hopefully, “I’d love to meet more people my size. Is this really the Vale of the Fairies?”

“It is. And I promise I’ll bring you here any time you want. First I’ll just get you home and—” he cut himself off as he remembered another who he’d promised to get home.

“Pips!” he exclaimed, slapping his forehead.

“Pips?”

“My friend. He helped me find you, and I left him in the tunnel. Come on!”

He lifted Thumbelina into his arms and flew back the way they had come, leaving Jacquimo to his vapours.

“I met him at your house when you were kidnapped. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he came with me on my quest! And he saved me from a hawk, and he’s got this strange green glow and—”

Cornelius babbled excitedly while Thumbelina clung tightly to him. She didn’t retain everything he said, but he took no notice as he continued to recount their adventures together. They returned to the tunnel and back into warm darkness. The bridge chamber had emptied of guests, save for a few who were kneeling and tapping the ground, like they were performing an odd ritual. The mole and a lady mouse were arguing with the decrepit old priest to set up another wedding date.

“Oh! Oh, my dear!” The mole gripped his spectacles before they slipped off his face when he saw Thumbelina and Cornelius had returned. “You’re back. Well… I hope you’re not looking for forgiveness. I’ve found another, you see.”

Thumbelina wasn’t sure what to say; meanwhile, Cornelius frantically looked for Pips, but could not see his fiery red hair anywhere in the dismal cavern.

The jitterbugs flew over in a tizzy.

“You’re okay!” Baby Bug squealed, jumping into Thumbelina’s arms.

“Where’s Pips?” Cornelius asked them.

The children looked at each other as their smiles disappeared.

“He’s gone,” Gnatty spoke up, “A giant light came up from the ground and he went into it!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“There,” Gnatty pointed to the group inspecting the floor, “The light came out from there, and he said it was for him. He went inside and then the light disappeared.”

Cornelius flew to the spot, scattering the remaining guests away as he fell to his knees. The ground looked undisturbed and unbroken, but he raked his fingernails across it, searching for any trace of an opening.

He called for Pips in desperation, fighting against the rising panic in his chest. He had to be alright. He had to be safe, and back by his side. Cornelius couldn’t fathom otherwise.

“He said that he was going home,” Li’l Bee said quietly.

Cornelius dug his hands into the earth as his shoulders shook. “I don’t understand. Home where? How can he be gone?”

“What’s wrong?” Thumbelina asked, but he couldn’t answer.

He pressed his forehead to the ground, silently willing for it to open. Nothing happened, despite his wildest hopes. Cornelius thought he had known despair when Thumbelina had been kidnapped. It was nothing compared to the emptiness he felt now; it was like a hole had been carved out of him and flung into the mysterious ether Pips had disappeared into.

Thumbelina placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he wept.


	8. Chapter 8

When Pips came to, he was lying facedown with sunlight poking at his closed eyelids. He threw his arm in front of his face as he attempted to blink away the dizziness in his head.

“Pips! You’re back! He’s back!” someone cried.

Before he could fully recover, someone fell upon him and squeezed him tight enough to pop all of the disorientation out of him. He wheezed, and the person pulled away.

“Crysta?”

He hadn’t seen her face in so long, but here she was in front of him, wide-eyed and smiling brightly.

“You’re alright!” she exclaimed.

Pips looked past her and took in his surroundings. He was back in FernGully amid the ever-warm air and the greenery. Everything was familiar, yet so alien at the same time. It felt like his journey had turned him into a near stranger in his own home. Then Zak’s giant head swam into view and blocked the majesty of it all.

“Nice to see you too, Zag,” he said.

“I tried to use magic to get you back, but nothing was working,” Crysta explained, “So we decided to read the story to the end to see if that would help! And it did!”

“The pages just went crazy when you went into the book,” Zak added, “The pictures changed so that you were in them, and so did the words.”

Pips’s heart doubled in speed. “You mean…. You saw everything that happened?”

“Yeah dude. Everything.” Zak raised an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth, and Pips dearly wished he was fairy size once more just to be able to sock him in the jaw.

“How many days have passed for you, Pips?” Crysta asked.

Momentarily distracted from Zak’s insufferable smirk, Pips pondered the question. “I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Because you’ve only been gone an hour for us.”

He frowned at Crysta. “What? No, that can’t be.”

“That’s the time it took to read through,” said Zak, “‘Cause Crysta had a lot of questions about stuff like snow so it took a while to explain… But look, check this freaky thing out.”

He set the large book upright and flipped through the pages, stopping somewhere near the end. Pips saw his mirror image in the underground tunnel, walking towards a white crack in the ground. It was a surreal experience to see himself flat upon the white surface.

“The last words on the page say that you walked into this white light and disappeared. Then… nothing.” Zak turned to the next few pages to show that they were completely blank. “It’s like the story doesn’t have a proper ending. Like you erased it.”

“What does that mean?” asked Pips, “It just ends with me leaving? What about Cornelius, what happens to him?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy, my dude.”

Pips swallowed past the painful lump forming in his throat. He reached out to touch the blank page, then stopped himself. But his desperate hope overrode his hesitance and he placed his palm on the cool surface, half-hoping.

Nothing happened; he remained where he was, surrounded by the warm shade of FernGully’s trees. Pips pressed his forehead against the paper with a shaky sigh. Had his presence destroyed the story’s natural progression?

“This isn’t how it’s meant to end,” he whispered, “He’s supposed to get his happy ending.”

Crysta gently touched his shoulder, but he didn’t move. He stayed glued to the empty page, his heart floating on a wave between seeping despair and misplaced hope. Minutes could have passed by and he wouldn’t have noticed. Perhaps his friends had left him alone to grieve over the silliness of what was ultimately just a story.

A voice in the distance called for Zak. Crysta grabbed his arm with more urgency this time and Pips finally looked up.

“That’s my dad,” Zak said, “I’d better go.”

He stood up, then paused and looked down at the fairies, rubbing his chin. “Listen… why don’t I leave the book with you?”

“With us? Why?” Crysta asked.

“I can’t exactly explain to my sister why the story is all different now, or why the ending’s gone. It’s cool, I’ll just buy her a new book. And I think you should have it.”

He directed that last part at Pips; there was no teasing in his voice, no insufferable smirk. In fact, he was looking at Pips with genuine sympathy. It would almost have been preferable to be teased again.

Pips pushed away the shame and gave him a curt nod. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

And so Zak carried the book to Crysta’s sanctuary away from the fairy holt. It had been Magi’s tree for millennia where she honed her skills in solitude, and Crysta had inherited it. They could keep the book safe there, away from prying eyes.

Pips watched as she and Zak bid farewell just outside the tree. She sat in his hands and he kept her close to his face. They whispered to each other too low for him to hear, but he assumed he wasn’t meant to. The sadness in Zak’s eyes hit too close to home and Pips eventually had to look away.

They gave each other one final wave, and Pips bid him good luck before he disappeared to find his family. Crysta flew back into the tree where Pips waited to gather her in his arms. She sighed heavily and sunk into his embrace.

“I wish you didn’t have to hurt like this,” he said into her hair.

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with the barest hint of a sniffle. “I’ll be alright. Time will hopefully heal both of our broken hearts.”

Pips tensed. “What do you mean ‘both of our broken hearts’? I was just stuck in a story. How could I—”

“Pips.” Crysta shook her head fondly. “I know what happened. I saw how your feelings changed. It’s alright.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but halted when he met her eyes. There was no point in hiding his heart from her; he had never done so before. She smiled sadly and took his hand.

 

* * *

 

Life resumed its course in FernGully. Pips had only been gone for a small part of an afternoon in the real world, even though he felt like he had returned from a long adventure. Nevertheless, he slipped back into his routine of helping the forest grow, along with his shenanigans with the Beetle Boys.

It had taken a moment to re-adjust to the normal beetles of this world. When Stump’s mount had come to fetch him for a ride around the watering hole one day, he nearly jumped out of his skin at first.

“What’s the matter?” Stump asked.

“Sorry, it’s just… I was expecting you to be riding some blue guy with a moustache.”

The Boys looked at him as if he’d eaten one too many dewberries, but otherwise didn’t comment. Despite his initial shock, it was nice to be surrounded by regular animals again, and none of them grotesquely dressed up.

As the days went by, the ache inside of him had numbed somewhat, but it never truly went away. He could feel it burning dully like an old wound that had never fully healed. Only Crysta knew what weighed heavily on his mind; he spent nearly every day in her sanctuary flipping through the book. He couldn’t read the strange markings on its pages, but he could look at the pictures. He remembered every vivid scene they depicted, and would often linger on the ones that made him feel the most intensely.

He saw himself next to an image of Cornelius, the both of them flying on Buzzby’s back. In another, they were hiding inside a log as he tended to the wound on Cornelius’s leg. And every time, he would flip to the page where the two of them were curled together in the snow, gazing at each other.

Crysta let him brood while got on with her work, but she never let him stay for as long as he wanted.

“You can’t do this all day,” she would admonish as she pushed him out.

And yet he would return day after day and look through the book again. He was afraid that as time passed, he would forget about what had happened—forget _him_. These pictures were his only proof that he had been part of the story.

Then one day Crysta begged him to come to the sanctuary and take a look at something there. Pips had been lazily chewing on a berry with his friends when she arrived. They all stopped mid-snack at her agitation.

“I thought you wanted me to stay out of your tree,” he said.

“I never said that, I meant—Oh, just come on! I have to show you something!”

Pips set down his half-eaten berry and stood up to follow. The Beetle Boys did the same and were mounting their beetles when Crysta put her hand up.

“Sorry guys, this is just for Pips.”

They loudly protested, but eventually slid off their beetles and slumped to the floor to sulk. They weren’t going to go against the fairy tribe’s magic leader.

“Pips always gets to do fun stuff,” Knotty grumbled.

“I don’t even know what it is yet! You don’t know if it’s going to be any fun!” Pips said.

The Boys bared their teeth at him. Stump picked up his berry and went right back to snarfing it down. “You better tell us what it is when you get back, you hear?”

Pips gave them a quick two-fingered salute before he followed Crysta through the rainforest. They zipped across the watering hole and into the mossy shade of the sanctuary. Nearly every inch was covered in flowers and weeds; Crysta had been hard at work practicing her growing magic to spread across the rainforest.

“You’ve pretty much got Magi’s powers now,” Pips said.

“Hardly. She could maintain the rainforest for thousands of years. I’ve still got a lot to learn. But I did manage this!”

She thrust out a single seed out for him to see. Pips didn’t know what to say; she looked mighty proud of her seed, but there wasn’t anything impressive about it.

“I thought you’d moved on to growing actual tree stumps,” he said.

“No, this is for you! Here.” She dropped the seed into his hand and closed his fingers around it before flying to the book propped against the inner bark walls of the tree. It was open to the picture of Pips walking into the light, with the first blank page across from it.

“I’ve been working magic on it,” Crysta said, throwing a small wave of green sparkles across the paper, “And for a while, I got the pictures to move a little bit. When the story changed, it got me thinking.”

She ran her hand across the empty page in a grand sweep. “Why did the story disappear when you left it? What’s meant to happen afterwards? And then I realized the story wasn’t over.” She turned to Pips and smiled. “You have to finish it.”

“Finish it how?” Pips asked, perplexed.

She pointed at his fist where he still held the seed. He opened his hand to look at it, but it hadn’t morphed into anything magical. A single seed could grow into the tallest tree and shelter all life within it, but it could not do the impossible.

“I’ve poured magic into this seed to connect it to the book,” Crysta explained, “Remember how Zak said this story was made from trees? That’s why my magic worked on it the first time. And now I think I’ve found a way to let you travel back and forth between the book and FernGully.”

“Back and forth?” Pips repeated, “You mean this thing could help me—”

“Get in there and back whenever you want!” she cut in excitedly, “This is a real breakthrough for my powers! I’ve figured out how to store magic inside seed hosts. This could be huge for our people! And… well, I thought maybe I could help you with it too.”

Pips didn’t want to give too much store to the soaring hope in his heart. There were too many worries rattling around still. There was no guarantee it would work. He would need Crysta to teach him how to use this seed, and it was so small it could easily get lost. He asked the question that weighed most heavily on him.

“What if this isn’t right? What if I’m not meant to be doing this?”

He almost tossed the seed back to her but her squeak of alarm made him close his fist around it once more. He swallowed thickly.

“It’s just a story, Crysta. Everything that happened to me… it wasn’t real. Maybe I’m clinging to it like an idiot and we should just get rid of the book.”

“But Pips, how do you explain the empty pages? They’re waiting for you!”

“I don’t know, clearly I messed with it!” he said angrily, “This is just some stupid tale spun by humans who don’t know anything about us. And I—I fell for it when I was in there. But I’m here now. I’m home. This is where I belong.”

Crysta crossed her arms and looked at him with such pity that he had to close his eyes. He wanted to shut away the rising tide of emotions; perhaps he should have let himself forget.

“But it _was_ real, Pips. _He_ was real. What you feel right now is real.”

He couldn’t close his ears from her words, and they hit their mark right into his core. Pips turned to the book with trepidation. He slowly flipped the page back to a picture of Cornelius flying out of the cave to find Thumbelina.

“He’s probably getting married to his girl like he’s supposed to,” he murmured, voice cracking slightly, “I shouldn’t get in the way of that.”

“You don’t know that. Nobody knows what happens next. Don’t you want to at least say a proper goodbye?”

They both knew Pips wanted to do more than that. He traced the lines of Cornelius’s face, glowing beautifully in the sunlight. Days of quietly pining in the sanctuary were doing him no favours. He would have to end it one way or another.

 

* * *

 

Cornelius had become distant since his return home. Winter slowly melted away into spring, and the fairy court took up the mantle of spreading blooms across the Vale and the neighbouring forest. Even with the invigorating air of a new season, the young prince remained listless and melancholy.

The king and queen grew concerned for their son, but he remained secretive over what burdened him. Tabitha chalked it up to heartbreak proportionate to how passionate he’d been to rescue his much talked-about ladylove.

He had found Thumbelina, but she had not become his bride as half the forest had expected. Instead, Cornelius had taken her home to her jubilant and weeping mother. He later returned to the mole’s cavern to try and find a secret opening in the ground where Pips had disappeared into. He had remained on his hands and knees, crawling around until his leggings were coated in dirt. Ms. Fieldmouse (who was quick to remind him that she would soon be Mrs. Mole and thus mistress of this chamber) finally had to threaten him with her wooden spoon to get him to leave.

He hadn’t found anything encouraging, and Cornelius quickly gave up on finding a path. Pips had said magic was what had stranded him in their realm in the first place. Magic might well have swallowed him up again.

He then busied himself in the royal library, scouring books for a hint of what could have happened. Again he was met with a dead end. He hadn’t had much to go on other than white cracks suddenly appearing out of nowhere, and there no such records in even the rarest and most ancient tomes.

As time passed, Cornelius despaired of ever finding a lead. Searching for Thumbelina had been challenging, but he’d had clues to follow from her house. Pips had left no trace, and interrogating the underground inhabitants of the mole’s cave had turned up no answers.

Part of him wanted to lead another search, but his parents were extremely reluctant to let him go out during wintertime after what had happened. Once spring was back, Cornelius’s turmoil had calmed to dull acceptance. Deep in his heart, he knew that Pips was out of his reach.

The painful longing did not abate, but he tried to keep himself occupied by going out for rides with Buzzby and spending more time with Thumbelina. He had kept his promise and brought her to the Vale to meet other fairies. She had been shy at first, but the others had been warm and welcoming to the newcomer, and she was now a regular visitor. The court musicians had even taken her under their wing to help hone her singing. Her voice often drifted across the halls to enchant anyone within hearing distance.

Slowly, they got to know each other better, and Cornelius was glad to see that his initial impression had been correct, for Thumbelina was still as sweet and good-natured as he had first believed. Her pep gradually returned as she put her ordeal behind her and made new friends at court. A small part of Cornelius hoped that spending more time together might rekindle their romance and cure his aching heart. But she could no longer find a place there; it had been thoroughly usurped by another, long after Cornelius had realized too late.

Time was the only thing that could heal, and time moved at its own pace out of anyone’s control. Cornelius whiled the days away and did his best to bury his pain. He even took on more royal duties, much to his parents’ surprise. If he busied himself with diplomatic work by flying to meet other forest inhabitinats, it would give him less time to think and feel.

One particular spring morning, he found Thumbelina happily chatting with a group of court ladies.. The king and queen had arranged for a carriage to bring her over so that Cornelius wouldn’t always be the one picking her up on his bumblebee (he suspected that his mother wanted to display some decorum in front their guest, though Thumbelina didn’t care one way or the other).

When he approached, the ladies swiftly curtsied and departed, leaving them alone together. Cornelius watched them giggle behind their fans and disappear around the corner.

“What was that about?” he asked.

Thumbelina was also laughing between her fingers. “They think you’re just being shy in your courtship. I tried to tell them we’re not courting anymore, but I’m not sure they believe me.”

“I might not be, but I know a few fairies who would like to. I’ve seen how some of my friends admire you.”

“Oh.” She reddened and looked down at her lap to pluck at loose skirt threads. “Well… I don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that so soon. But, maybe someday.”

Cornelius smiled gently. “Don’t worry. You won’t be set up for any more arranged marriages.”

“That’s good,” she replied, patting down her skirt, “I’m happy just focusing on my music for now. Did you know your mother asked if I could lead the concert at the next ball?”

“No, but that’s wonderful to hear!” he said sincerely.

Thumbelina beamed. “It is! I’m working with the orchestra right now to find which pieces to play.” Her happiness faded as she looked at him cautiously. “How is your search for your friend going?”

Cornelius ignored the pang in his heart and forced out a smile. “I’m… not giving up hope.”

“You know, Jacquimo was right about following your heart. I think that’s what kept us both going. I hope that’s what you’re doing now.”

But Cornelius could not follow something he’d lost. After a little more chatter (and a deft changing of the subject), he bid her goodbye when he was unable to keep up his brave facade any longer. He flew out of the petal halls and went to find Buzzby in the flower fields. His faithful friend was resting on a tree branch and he sat beside him, pulling his knees up to his chin.

This was a good place to sit and brood, and that was just what he did for a time. Buzzby sat almost quietly next to him, occasionally shaking his wings.

“I’m not in the mood for a ride today. Sorry, boy.”

He patted the disappointed bumble and resumed his silent vigil over the field.

“In that case, can I be in the front seat?” someone asked.

Cornelius recognized that voice. He turned around, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him. But there he was floating behind him, fire-haired and sporting a crooked grin.

Cornelius shot to his feet and nearly barreled them both out of the sky as he grabbed hold of Pips’s arms.

“You’re back!” he cried.

“I am!” Pips laughed, taking hold of Cornelius’s waist to steady himself, “I found a way thanks to some friends.”

“I thought I would never see you again,” Cornelius said breathlessly. There was so much to say, but all he could feel was unspeakable joy. His hands ran up Pips’s arms and across his shoulders, reveling in the warm touch of his skin that felt so very real beneath his fingertips.

“I couldn’t stand not seeing— I mean, I wanted to… oh boy.” Pips exhaled heavily and tried again. “So, um. How’s Thumbelina?”

Cornelius had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the red blush creeping up the other’s cheeks. When he was certain his mirth was under control, he said: “She’s well. She’s here in the Vale right now.”

He felt Pips’s fingers tighten around his waist. “I see. And is she—”

“We’re not,” Cornelius quickly interrupted, “We’re not engaged anymore.”

Pips blinked. “Oh.” His lips twitched upwards, like he was almost afraid to smile. But he couldn’t completely hide his relief.

“Our hearts were leading us on different paths,” Cornelius said quietly.

He gazed into those intense green eyes he had missed so much, and felt the past few weeks melt away. Days of yearning and gloom were nothing now, not when he was so full of happiness he was about to burst.

Pips still looked uncertain as he said: “Listen Cornelius, there’s a lot I have to explain. About where I come from, and how I got here and—”

But Cornelius was done talking and listening. He took Pips’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together like he had dreamed of doing for so long. Never one to react slowly, Pips pulled him closer, and kissed him back deeply. They wrapped around each other like they were trying to meld as one to erase their time apart.

Cornelius gasped into Pips’s mouth as he felt a firm hand grip the back of his head, delirious with joy. When their lips parted, their bodies did not. Pips held him close and spun him around with a bright laugh. Cornelius joined in, basking in the green glow that wrapped around them both. He leaned down and kissed him again, reveling in the magic. He had found his happy ending.

 

* * *

 

It had taken some cajoling, but Cornelius finally convinced Pips to leave the field and come to the fairy court. Colbert and Tabitha were surprised to see their son in their chambers after all the time he’d been spending outside. He was smiling more brightly than they had seen in a while, and next to him was a strange fairy whose lack of clothing was impossible to miss.

Tabitha quickly opened her fan and shielded her eyes while Colbert nervously coughed.

“Mother, Father,” Cornelius said proudly, “This is Pips. He helped me rescue Thumbelina.”

“Yes,” Tabitha muttered, making a big show of fluttering her fan, “And… is there any reason why your friend seems to be underdressed?”

“I told you this would happen,” Pips said from the corner of his mouth, but Cornelius ignored him. He firmly took his hand and laced their fingers together.

“I’m in love with him,” he declared.

Colbert heard a strangled cry and knew that was his cue to catch his wife before she fainted on the ground.


End file.
